Yesterday's Tears
by Potter47
Summary: The new third part of the Yesterday Sequence, picking up where Living inside Yesterday and Believe in Yesterday left off. Nobody's supposed to change time... nobody. Don't you see what horrible things have happened when wizards have meddled with time? FIN
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone. This is the new third part of the Yesterday Sequence--the sequel to _Believe in Yesterday,_ which was itself the sequel to Living inside Yesterday. I have decided to give up on what _had_ been the third part, _Yesterday's Tomorrow_, and start over where part two left off. 

This may not be the most satisfying thing to do for readers who were following YsT, but as I have been unable to write a word of that story for over a year anyway, I doubt it will be very much missed. I feel that this story is a much better conclusion to the Yesterday Sequence than that one ever could have been, and a much less confusing one, as well. Which is definitely a good thing.

This story will be only ten chapters long, plus this prologue, as well as an epilogue. It WILL be finished by the release of the seventh book.

So, readers–put yourself back to where you were when you finished part two of this odyssey–was your desk on the other wall? Have you bought a new computer in the meanwhile? Are you a different person entirely? Forget about those things for a moment, and go back–back to Yesterday.

When we last left our characters, Ronald had just left Luna's house for the Burrow–and meanwhile, at the Burrow, Ginny has been knocked unconscious and taken back into the Chamber within her mind. This is where we pick up the thread; this is where we begin anew:

Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Prologue  
A Brilliant Idea**_

"It's such a shame that Ronnie had to go home so soon," said London as Luna walked back into the living room, from the front hall.

"Yeah," said Luna. She glanced down at the hot cocoa mugs still resting on the coffee table, next to the paper plates–full of Pop Tart crumbs. There would be clumps of chocolate in the bottoms of the mugs, she thought. Sometimes she liked to scoop up the clumps and eat them after drinking the rest–it tasted so different–but now she didn't feel like it.

"Are you finished with your cocoa, daddy?"

"Yes," said London, standing and fiddling at the radio.

Luna picked up the three mugs, hung on her fingers by the handles. Into the kitchen and she bit her lip. The mug on the left had been Ronald's. She placed the other two in the sink and held that one with both hands–lifted it to her face and breathed in its scent.

–and even though it smelt of cocoa, and nothing else, she didn't care. It was still his. She missed him dreadfully, and he hadn't been gone fifteen minutes. How had she ever gotten on for so many years?

The last mug in the sink, she filled them with water from the tap so the clumps at the bottom wouldn't harden and be a pain to clean up–London did the dishes the Muggle way, of course, the way he'd been raised. He didn't need any extra work. He'd just been through a very traumatic experience, even though he didn't remember it.

"_In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass..._" sang the radio as Luna walked back into the living room from the kitchen. She smiled. London loved this song.

"Dance with me!" called London, and he grabbed hold of Luna's hand before she knew what had happened, and he was leading her around the living room awkwardly.

"_Penny Lane...! is in my ears... and in my eyes..._" sang London as they went. Luna chuckled, and joined in: "_There beneath the blue suburban skies..._"

Anyone who knew London knew that nothing could keep him from his Beatles, and Luna could not think of any reason why anyone would want to. If You-Know-Who himself had charged into the living room and blasted the radio into bits, London would not have run away, or even yelped--and London was a very yelpy man. Instead, he would have stuck his finger in the Dark Lord's face, and shouted, "_HOW DARE YOU?!_"

Luna smiled.

"_Oh, Penny Lane...!_" London finished along with the radio, and as the music clanged to a silence, Luna looked up at her father.

"You should start your own band, Dad. _London and the Englands._ You could be bigger than the Beatles."

London shook his head, sighing into a grin. "_Nobody_ could be bigger than the Beatles."

Luna excused herself up the stairs before she was tripped into a round of _Day Tripper._

"Well, hello, Snorky, what are you staring at?" she asked as she entered her bedroom. Her stuffed Snorkack was staring at her from the bed. "Yes, I know I left you alone but you see, I do it every day. I'm sorry. Aw, come here."

Snorky did no such thing, so Luna bridged the distance herself and sat down on the bed beside him. She sat cross-legged and folded her arms on her knees.

"What? You're looking at me funny."

Luna reached down and picked the little guy off of her bed but suddenly the bed was gone. Luna found this slightly odd because she had been on the bed herself and now she clearly wasn't and yet there was no impact of hardwood floor against her bottom, which would have hurt.

Come to think of it, she couldn't see anything either.

It was dark, very dark, and since Luna wasn't a Night-Crawling Snorkack, she could not see a thing. She reached behind her ear on reflex, but her wand was not there.

"My Queen," said a voice, and Luna spun around--but nothing changed in her vision, because it was so dark, and that made her dizzy.

"Who's there?" asked Luna.

"It's me," said the voice, and then: "Bob."

Luna blinked (which didn't accomplish much) and then quirked her head. "Robert?"

Bob nodded, but Luna couldn't see him. "Yes," he added, in a whisper.

"So I'm in Logica-Land?" said Luna.

"Yes, but don't be so loud if you don't mind, my lady," said Bob. Bob was a small, teddy-bear-esque creature that Luna had met on her first venture into Logica-Land. She hadn't seen him in ages.

"Why not?" asked Luna.

"If you haven't noticed, my Queen, all is not right in Logica-Land," said Bob. The words hung in the black air, and Luna nodded.

"Yes, I had noticed. What's happened? Where are we?"

"We are in your palace," said Bob. "The Envelope of Oblivion has sent his Letters to attack us, and they ransacked the whole entire village. Word has it that the Envelope is preparing to move in on us himself, my lady. These have been dark days indeed..."

"I've noticed," said Luna. "Is there any way we can lighten things up a bit? The darkness is shining so bright I can't see a thing."

"That is why we've been hoping you would return so very dearly, my dear," said Bob excitedly, "and why it is so wonderful that you finally have."

"Why is that?" said Luna. "I don't really see anything wonderful about this... to be honest I don't see much at all.

"All of our lights have burnt out," said Bob, "and so we need new ones. You are the Queen, and the chief Idea-maker of Logica-Land. You simply need to come up with an idea."

"An idea about what?"

"About what we are going to do."

Luna was confuzzled.

"What _is_ there to do? The Envelope is enveloping us... King Ronald is still missing, I assume?" She felt a pang as she said it, because she had just remembered.

"Yes, he is," said Bob.

"And where is Harpia?"

"Um," said Bob. He swallowed, as though he regretted having to break it to her. "She is... also... missing. There are rumours that she may be... um..."

"Oh."

Luna furrowed her brow.

"Then there's only one idea I can think of."

"What is that?" said Bob, a note of hope in his voice.

"We must set out to rescue King Ronald."

A dazzling light bulb _popped_ into existence above her head, burning bright and shedding light over the great hall of the palace.

Bob smiled. "A brilliant idea."

_** Next Chapter   
Hide and Seek**_

"In reality, we are still children.  
We want to find a playmate for our thoughts and feelings."  
Wilhelm Stekel

_** Coming Soon **_

**Author's Note:** The first chapter will arrive two weeks from today, on the First of June, and each chapter after that will follow five days apart.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	2. Hide and Seek

Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part One  
Living Inside**_

"In reality, we are still children.  
We want to find a playmate for our thoughts and feelings."  
Wilhelm Stekel

_** Chapter One  
Hide and Seek**_

The air in the Burrow was more than tense that warm summer morning--it could almost be mistaken for mere humidity. Almost.

Ron had expected to make an unobtrusive entrance as he stepped into the kitchen, and that was very nearly an accurate prediction. He smiled to himself as he closed the door behind him--no one seemed to be awake yet.

Then he spotted the plates on the table--they were left with the remains of half-eaten eggs. Ron narrowed his eyes--Mum would never let plates stay half-empty on the table, they would either be cleaned up, or, more likely, she would force them bodily down the throat of the attempted food-shunner.

Where was everyone?

And, for that matter... why weren't they asleep?

Ron was getting a little worried now, and so he took out his wand.

He crossed the kitchen, half on tip-toes. He leaned into the stairwell with an arm on the rail, and looked up the stairs. Cautiously, he began to ascend, step by careful step...

And all of a sudden, two red-haired wildebeests stampeded down the stairs.

They very nearly collided with Ron, then came to a screeching halt.

"Ronniekins, get out of the way," said Fred.

"You ought to be more careful," said George. "We could have knocked you down the stairs."

"Nice hat," said Fred, grinning for a moment before he sobered once again. Ron reached up and felt Luna's lion hat on his head--he had forgotten it was there.

"Get out of the way, Ron, we've got to inspect the kitchen."

"What?" said Ron. "You mean you've got to find something to eat--"

"No," said George. "We've got to inspect the kitchen."

"For what?"

"For whatever it was that knocked Ginny out."

"_WHAT?_"

The twins blinked.

"Oh, yes."

"I'd forgot."

"You didn't know."

Ron looked from one to the other. "What happened to Ginny?"

The twins shrugged.

"Nobody has any idea. One second she was all right, and then mum and Harry said that her chair just blew over backwards like there was a big gust of wind--"

"Harry? Harry's here? When did Harry get here?"

"Yesterday," said Fred, and the word hung in the air for a minute. Then: "Boy, you've missed a lot."

"Like what?"

"You'll find out," said George. "But for now, help us comb the kitchen."

"No," said Ron, "I'm gonna go see Ginny. She's in her room?"

"Yeah."

And so, now that the wildebeests had cleared out, Ron made his way up the stairs, taking off his hat and leaving it on the step.

He shook his head: _What on earth did I miss...?_

––

Cold. Very, very cold. Freezing. Stone. Hard stone. Cold, hard stone.

Her eyes opened. Had they been closed? She couldn't remember. Something felt odd.

Ginny looked round–no, no, no, no, no, no, not now. Not again.

Everywhere she looked, there was the cold–the cold, tall, stone pillars that were the very pillars that held her up and forced her downwards again.

An enormous statue rose at the back, she knew, and she did not have to actually look to see it was there. It was there. She knew it was there. Just where it always was, at the back of the chamber.

_The_ Chamber.

The Chamber of Secrets.

"Do you want to play hide and seek?" came a familiar voice, so familiar that it was sickening. It was her self–not herself, but her _self_–the self that belonged to her.

"Hello, Ginevra," said another voice, very smooth, very cold, like the floor.

"Do you? Do you?" said the first, and Ginny felt her vision clearing. Had it been blurred? She couldn't remember. Something felt odd.

Ginny saw her selves, the selves that belonged to her, the selves that she had created, the selves just before her eyes–the selves _with_ her eyes...

"Why am I here?" Ginny asked finally. "Again? Why am I here again?"

"You hit your head hard, Ginny," said the boy, the image of Tom Riddle, the evil inside. "Very hard. In fact–"

"Who cares about that?" said the girl, the eleven-year-old Ginny, the picture of innocence. "Let's play hide and seek!"

"Will you shut up?" said the boy. "This is no time for games." His expression changed slightly, to a small smirk. "Or is it? Is not this whole thing a game? A struggle between opposing forces? Now is the time for games, but not for children's games–for the most important game of all."

"What are you on about?" said Ginny, and her head was hurting. Aching. When had it started aching? She couldn't remember. Something felt odd.

"Don't you see it, Ginny?" said the boy. "Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" said Ginny, and she did feel something, she did feel the unbearable silence of the Chamber, she felt an ache in her head, and she felt precisely what words her self was going to say next:

"It is..._beginning_."

Ginny blinked, and then, she felt it. Something different. She felt it in her toes, that little feeling where they curled up upon themselves and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"What is beginning?" asked Ginny.

The boy smiled Tom's smile.

"The final act," he said. "The last, glorious movement of this symphony of ours... Can't you see it? Can't you hear it? That change in the beat of your heart, in all of your hearts?" Ginny shivered. "That shiver right there, I saw that." He smiled.

"What are you talking about?"

Tom ignored her question.

The girl spoke again, Little Ginny, and she sounded different: "Please, Ginny. Let's play hide and seek."

Ginny found herself nodding, and her self grinned.

"Close your eyes and count to thirty," said Little Ginny. "Come on," she said to the boy, to Tom, and he followed, his eyes on Ginny as he disappeared into the darkness.

Ginny put her hands over her eyes and started to count.

"One... two... three..."

What was that?

"Four... five..."

A rustling.

"Six..."

"_Oh, my Ginevra.._." said the smallest voice, at her ear.

"Seven... eight..." She tried to ignore the voice, but she shivered again.

"_Play nice_," said the voice at "ten," and she thought it must have been Tom's, so she peaked--but he was nowhere to be found. Whose was it, then?

"_Eleven, twelve, thirteen..._" she sped up, wanting to be done with this. She didn't like that voice one bit. It had seemed so foreign. Wasn't this whole Chamber in her mind, and so everything in it was just different parts of herself? Wasn't that how it worked...?

That voice was no part of her, she knew that for sure.

"_Twenty-nine... thirty!_"

She swallowed.

"_Ready or not, here I_... come..." she said, rather more limply than she'd intended.

And she began to seek.

_** Next Chapter  
Come Out, Come Out!**_

"Oh love, look at you now  
You've got yourself stuck in a moment  
And you can't get out of it."  
Paul David Hewson

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 


	3. Come Out, Come Out!

Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part One  
Living Inside**_

"Oh love, look at you now  
You've got yourself stuck in a moment  
And you can't get out of it."  
Paul David Hewson

_** Chapter Two  
Come Out, Come Out!**_

Harry looked at her forehead, where the reddest of red met the palest of white.

He looked there because he couldn't stand looking at her mouth, where he'd kissed her only a few hours ago, or her eyes, because he didn't like the way the eyelids were so still. Her forehead was so clean, so clear. He'd never really even thought of what it must be like to have a clear forehead--like someone with a birthmark on their thigh might never think of _not_ having a birthmark on their thigh--and it was strange to think of it now.

"Harry?"

He jerked his gaze up to the doorway, where Ron was standing.

"You're back," he said. He meant to grin but it didn't work. "I guess I just missed you yesterday..."

"What are you doing here?" said Ron, shaking his head and managing that slight grin. "When'd you get here?"

"Yesterday," said Harry again. "Dumbledore sent Fawkes for me, brought me in the morning. Said he was worried Voldemort might set the Dementors on Privet Drive..."

"Oh," said Ron. Then: "What the hell happened to Gin?" He moved beside the bed, opposite Harry, and looked at her. "Fred and George said--"

"Her chair fell over, all of a sudden, and she got knocked out," said Harry, nodding. "We don't have any idea why..."

"How long has she been--"

"About half an hour," said Harry.

They were silent for a minute, because they didn't really know what else to say. And then, Harry spoke:

"Where on earth have you been, anyway? Your mum wouldn't tell me, she wanted you to say--"

"Oh," said Ron. "Uh... I've been at Luna's."

Harry's eyebrows jumped. "Luna's? Lovegood, that Luna?"

Ron furrowed his brow. "What _other_ Luna would it be?"

"I dunno." A pause, and then: "Why on earth were you at Luna's?"

Ron wasn't really sure he liked the way Harry said that.

"Well, why shouldn't I have been?"

"I dunno, it just doesn't seem like something you'd want to do--"

"Well, it was, if you don't have a problem with that..."

Harry blinked. "Why would I have a problem with it? I was just--"

"Nevermind," said Ron.

"OK," said Harry, wondering what on earth Ron was so edgy about.

––

"_COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE...!_" Ginny yelled for what felt like the hundredth time. She let out a frustrated breath.

"I GIVE UP! COME ON, I GIVE UP! I CAN'T... FIND... you..."

Ginny rubbed her throat. She couldn't yell anymore. She was aching from running around the Chamber, seeking all over the place for the hiders she couldn't find. Now she plopped herself down on the cold, hard stone floor, laid back, and gave up.

"Oh, don't give up, Ginevra, then it's just not any _fun_..."

Ginny shook her head, irritated beyond description that he'd shown up when she'd actually begun to think of the hard stone as comfortable.

It was the boy, Tom, of course. When Ginny opened her eyes, he was standing over her, and the girl, Little Ginny, was standing there as well.

"How could I ever find you?" she said.

"You've got to know where to look," said Tom.

"Well, I don't. I don't live in here, you do--I don't spend all my time in here, I don't know the hiding places... and right now the only one I really care about is the one behind my eyelids. Leave me alone."

She closed her eyes again, hoping against hope they'd go away...

No such luck.

"But we _can't_ leave you alone, that's just the point, Ginevra, don't you get it by now...? We are a part _of_ you. We _are_ behind your eyelids, this whole place is behind your eyelids."

"I don't _care_..."

"Come on, Ginny," said the girl. "One more game, and this time, me and you'll hide and _he'll_ have to find us. I know all the best hiding spots." She smiled a wide, eleven-year-old smile.

Ginny _harrumph_ed.

"Fine," she said. "But then I am going to sleep and you're both going to leave me the hell alone."

"Close your eyes and count to fifty," Little Ginny told Tom. And, looking more than a bit foolish as he did it, he covered his eyes with his hands and began to count.

"_One... two... three..._"

"Come on, Ginny, let's go."

––

"How is she?" said a voice from the doorway, and Ron and Harry jumped a mile.

"Hermione?" said Ron. "When did _you_ get here...? Who else've I missed--"

"Only just now, Ron," said Hermione. "Professor Snape just showed up at my house and Portkeyed me and my..."

"Snape?" said Ron, a little suspiciously. "How did Snape know about this?"

"He didn't," said Hermione. "Would you let me finish?"

"Sorry," said Ron, but he didn't' sound it.

"Dumbledore wanted me here--something about Voldemort and the Dementors, he was worried they might try to attack my house. So Dumbledore sent Snape to bring me and my parents here..."

"Your parents are here?"

"Yeah--"

"I bet Dad's in heaven." Hermione gave him a look, and he put his hands up in defense. "I know, sorry for interrupting," he said.

"...and when we got here your mum told me what happened, so as I was saying... how's Ginny?"

"She's been better," said Ron.

"She's been worse, too," said Harry, speaking for the first time since Hermione came in.

"So she just... fell over...? Out of the blue?"

Harry nodded.

"Like a wind came in from nowhere and blew her chair over."

"That is so strange," said Hermione.

"Never come up in a book before, you mean?" said Ron.

Hermione gave him another look, and opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Then, bracingly: "Is this really the time to be _flippant_, Ron?

"Flippant, eh?" said Ron. "Haven't heard that one in awhile."

Hermione kept her mouth closed, and looked at Harry questioningly. Harry shrugged.

Ron looked back down at Ginny, laying there, and then stood. "I need something to eat," he said. "And some air. Nice to see you again, Hermione."

And then he was gone, and Hermione blinked.

"What on earth is his problem?"

Harry shrugged again. "I have no idea."

"I mean, you would think he'd be able to be nice when his sister is--"

"I dunno," said Harry. "He's been acting un-Ron-esque for awhile, I guess."

"Un-Ron-esque?"

"Yeah... now, Hermione, he hasn't been home since I got here yesterday, and I asked him this morning where he'd been. He told me he'd been at Luna's, and he got all defensive when I was surprised... Wouldn't _you_ have been a little surprised?"

"I am, right now," she said, eyes a bit wider.

"I know... he was acting like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to do, and that I was being stupid for being surprised..."

Hermione blinked, and thought a minute, and then shook her head. "Well, if it wasn't Ron, I'd think he was embarrassed, and that he and Luna were..."

Hermione couldn't help a little giggle escaping her mouth, but then Ginny caught her eye and she felt guilty for laughing.

Harry cocked his head. "You don't think..."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, it couldn't be that."

They were silent for a few moments, looking at nothing in particular and caught up in their own thoughts of Ron and Luna. Then, they caught each other's eye, and stifled a laugh.

––

"_Fifteen... sixteen... seventeen..._"

"Come on, Ginny, come on," whispered Little Ginny. "We don't have much time." She grabbed hold of Ginny's hand, and pulled her along towards the front of the chamber.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"_Twenty-four... twenty-five..._"

They ran, and ran, and Ginny's feet ached and ached. Suddenly, they were at the very front of the chamber, near the door to the tunnels, which led up towards the bathroom. Here, Little Ginny stopped.

"You know who I am, Ginny, yes?"

"Of course I do, you're me--"

"No, I mean... you know which part of you I am, Ginny, don't you?"

Ginny nodded.

"_Thirty-eight... thirty-nine..._"

"Good," said Little Ginny, and Ginny noticed something very different about this girl, now that she was away from her "brother"--she seemed to be somehow more _real_. "Then you'll trust me, yes?"

"_Forty-three..._"

Ginny nodded, unsure of what sort of trusting she was going to have to be doing...

"Run, Ginny," she said, speaking as fast as a little girl can speak (which is saying something). "Get out of the Chamber. The stairs will be there, so you can get up to the bathroom... but just go."

"Wait--I can just leave? All this time, I could just have walked out and I'd wake up--?"

"I didn't say that," said Little Ginny. "But trust me... just _go_."

"_Forty-seven, forty-eight..._"

Ginny went.

"_Ready or not, here I come..._"

_** Next Chapter  
Ready or Not**_

"Now he would have given all he had or ever might have to hold her warm in his arms, both of them wrapped in one blanket, and sleep. All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity."  
D. H. Lawrence

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	4. Ready or Not

Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part One  
Living Inside**_

"Now he would have given all he had or ever might have to hold her warm in his arms, both of them wrapped in one blanket, and sleep. All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity."  
D. H. Lawrence

_** Chapter Three  
Ready or Not**_

"Mum, could I have some eggs?"

Molly Weasley, who had been furiously directing the dishes in the sink the scrub themselves, nearly dropped her wand and turned round in surprise.

"Why, of course, Ron."

She seemed suddenly alive, flurrying here and there to prepare the food for her son. Ron watched her go for a minute, and then shook his head and sat down at the table.

"So how is Ginny doing?" asked Molly, as the eggs sizzled in the pan.

"She's doing exactly the same as she has been, why do people keep asking that?" Ron snapped. "She's unconscious, I think you would have heard if she woke up--"

Molly blinked. "Right then," she said. "I'm going to choose to ignore the tone you just took with your mother, is that all right with you?"

Ron sighed. "I'm sorry, Mum," he said, and he meant it. "It's just... I don't even know..."

"It's all right," she said. She retrieved the eggs from the pan and deposited them in front of Ron. She smiled, and to change the subject, asked, "How was Luna's?"

"Fine."

"Doesn't sound very fine. Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened... well, yeah, something happened, but nothing bad or anything."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Well, my sister's kinda laying unconscious on a bed upstairs--"

"Yes, I know that, thank you," said Molly, a sabre-tooth showing at the side of her mouth. "And I _don't_ know what's got your bee in such a bonnet, but I _am_ trying to help, you know that? We're all in a right state right now about Ginny, but you know what, Ron? We've all been in right states before and normally those are the times when this family actually manages to _get along_."

Ron looked down at his eggs and tried to will himself to start eating them.

"So... if you don't want to talk about it, then go right ahead. I'm here if you change your mind. But _please_ do not get snippy at the rest of us because of it, whatever it is."

"Sorry," said Ron.

"It's all right," said Molly. "Now eat your eggs."

––

Ginny emerged into the light and it was so very strange to see it. It felt like she'd been in the Chamber for ages and ages, but really, it must have only been... what, an hour? It seemed so insignificant now, in the light of the girls' bathroom.

Now, was this real? That's what she wondered... Was this the _real_ bathroom, in Hogwarts, or was this merely more of her own mind? She wanted to believe it might be the former, but that didn't seem very likely. After all, how would she have gotten to Hogwarts...? She was in her kitchen, with...

Harry...

She had to get back there. A rather selfish part of her was afraid that he'd tell somebody about their relationship while she wasn't there, and that she'd miss their reactions... and a less selfish part of her kept seeing Harry's worried face, seated by her bedside and sulking. He'd be sulking up a storm without her there to tell him not to. She had to get out of this place...

Rather unthinkingly, she slapped herself in the face in an attempt to wake herself up. But this only succeeded in stinging quite a bit, which didn't help matters much.

She was pacing and pacing the girls' bathroom before she suddenly realized she might as well go on out into the rest of the castle, and see what was going on. Just as she headed for the door, however, she heard a high-pitched voice that nearly made her fall over.

"Hello, Ginevra," said the voice, and she spun around, unsure of who it was.

Then she saw: it was Moaning Myrtle. Her heart gave a little flying leap when she saw her, that first moment. If Myrtle was here, then that surely meant that this was the real Hogwarts and she was out of her mind after all...

...but Myrtle had never called her "Ginevra" before, had she? Did Myrtle even know that was her name...?

"Hi, Myrtle..." said Ginny.

The ghost shook her head. "I'm not Myrtle. I'm you."

_Oh no..._

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean," said Not-Myrtle. "I'm a little part of you that you like to forget about." She smirked: "I'm the Ghost of the School-Girl Crush."

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed. What was going on? Sure, she had gotten out of the fire--but she'd jumped straight into the frying-pan. When could she just get off the damn stove?

––

"I'm gonna go see how my parents are doing," said Hermione. "I don't want Mr. Weasley scaring them too badly..."

"OK," said Harry in a rather listless sort of voice, still watching Ginny's still face.

Hermione frowned. "Are you gonna be OK, Harry? I mean--"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

Hermione looked from his face, to Ginny, and back again, and quirked an eyebrow, thinking to herself. But all she said was "All right, then," and she left to find her parents.

Harry stood, took a breath, let it out, and took another for the road. He looked round at the empty room, wondering if Ron was going to come back soon and realizing he didn't care all that much.

Not quite sure what he was doing, he kneeled on the carpet, took Ginny's hand in his own and rested his arms on the edge of the bed. Squeezing her fingers between his hands, he closed his eyes and pressed the hand-sandwich to his forehead.

"Please," he said, not sure who he was talking to. "Please, let her wake up..."

The words hung in the air strangely for a moment. He glanced up at Ginny's face, half-expecting her eyes to pop open. They didn't.

"Gin..." he said, kissing her hand, "come on. Talk to me. What's wrong? What happened, hmm?"

She didn't answer, and he let out another breath.

Keeping her hand tight in his, he buried his head in the mattress, not sure if he wanted to sleep or cry or just lay beside this girl. It felt like she'd been gone for ages, but what had it been? An hour? Two?

He knew he should move, that he should sit back down in the chair in case Ron or Hermione came back, or the twins, or anyone else, but he couldn't. He couldn't move an inch. True, his knees were aching--but so was his heart.

––

"I couldn't help overhearing your thoughts a minute ago," said Not-Myrtle, smirking a school-girl smirk, "and I was wondering... do you really think... that _he_ misses us that badly...?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you were saying that... _Harry_... must be very upset about you not being there and all... and... do you think?" Her cheeks blushed silver.

Ginny blinked. "Well... I hope he misses me, we're kind of..."

"Going out...?!" said Not-Myrtle excitedly. "I know, I heard, I can't believe it, can you? I mean, you must feel so lucky... Harry Potter and all..."

Her whole face was silver now. Not that it had been very different beforehand...

"Well... I guess so..." said Ginny. Something felt very strange about this, other than the obvious things. She didn't like something about the way Not-Myrtle was saying what she was saying...

"You _guess_...?! It's the Boy-Who-Lived for crying out loud, I would be on the floor praising the heavens that he even glanced at me..."

"It's not like that," said Ginny defensively. "I mean... I don't care about all that stuff anymore, that's stupid, he's just... he's Harry..." Ginny shook her head. "Why am I even talking about this with you? Do you know how I can get out of--"

"Oh, sure you don't care, uh-huh, I believe that," said the Ghost.

"I don't--"

"I heard you." Not-Myrtle smirked her annoying little smirk again, and then changed the subject: "I'm not sure how you get out of here, no... but I can take you to someone who might know."

"Who?"

"The Wizard of Hog," she said.

"Who?"

Not-Myrtle laughed. "You'll recognize him when you see him," she said. "But he's the brains around here, if you know what I mean."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't, really..."

"Don't you get how this works by now, Ginny? He's a part of you--your wisdom, if you must know. It's certainly clear that you haven't met him..."

Ginny glared at her. "Where can I find him?" she asked.

"I'll bring you to him, like I said," said Not-Myrtle. "Let's go," she said, zipping over to the doorway of the bathroom. Ginny followed, and emerged into the corridor--which looked just as it did normally in Hogwarts, except the flagstones shone quite golden.

"Follow me," said Not-Myrtle, zooming down the hall. "We've just got to follow the Yellow-Brick-Floor."

––

Hermione shook her head as she stepped back into the kitchen--she'd just been out in Mr. Weasley's shed, where he was showing off his Muggle collection to her parents. She had attempted to persuade them to come back inside--but her mum and dad found Mr. Weasley's fascination absolutely _fascinating._ She couldn't believe it, but it was true.

"Oh--hi, Hermione," said Ron from the table. "When did you go out there?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I walked right by you, five minutes ago--"

"Oh," said Ron. "I must've been eating."

Hermione smiled. "Now _that_ sounds like Ron Weasley," she said.

Mrs. Weasley--also at the table--smiled as well, and said pointedly: "Ronald, do you have something to say to Hermione...?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Sorry if I was... uh, flippant, earlier... I've been acting stupid today."

"I didn't notice any difference," joked Hermione, grinning, and then, at his face, said, "I'm only kidding."

"OK," said Ron. He stood, then, and said, "I'm gonna go back to Gin. Thanks, Mum, for the talk... and the other one, too, even if that one was kinda... scorchy."

"Anytime, Ron. That's what I'm here for, don't forget it. Put your plate in the sink."

"Scorchy, eh?" said Hermione.

"What?" said Ron.

"Nothing."

Ron furrowed his brow, but Hermione led the way out of the kitchen and up to Ginny's room--Ron followed, but as he got the landing, Hermione turned round and motioned for him to shush.

"What?" he asked.

"Look," she said, pointing in the bedroom. Ron looked. Then he blinked, and kept looking. Harry was kneeling on the floor, gripping Ginny's hand tightly and laying his head against her waist--and snoring softly.

"What the--"

"Isn't that the cutest thing in the world...?'

"No," said Ron. Then: "They're not... they haven't..."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, and whispered: "I don't know. I wouldn't put it past them... they seemed pretty close at the end of term, didn't they?"

"I guess so, but... bloody hell, what else did I miss when I was at Luna's...?"

"I don't know," said Hermione. Then, she added: "What did _we_ miss while you were at Luna's?"

Ron blinked. "Nothing... just her batty father singing the Beatles."

"Oh, all right then," said Hermione, smirking.

"What?" asked Ron.

"Nothing."

"Why are you smirking?"

"No reason..." said Hermione. "I was just thinking of the lovely lion hat we passed on the stairs."

Ron's ears went pink.

_** Next Chapter  
Faces and Hands**_

"The old clock is a thief  
with dirty second hands."  
Jonathan Foreman

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 


	5. Faces and Hands

Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part One  
Living Inside**_

"The old clock is a thief  
with dirty second hands."  
Jonathan Foreman

_** Chapter Four  
Faces and Hands**_

"We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Hog...!" sang Not-Myrtle, giggling. Ginny followed her along the corridors of Not-Hogwarts, wondering where on earth she was headed and who on earth this Wizard of Hog was supposed to be...

"I told you, he is your wisdom," said Not-Myrtle. "I don't see why you still can't grasp this concept."

"I'm sorry, it's still a bit strange," said Ginny, not sorry at all.

"What is the use lying to me, Ginevra? I'm a part of you, you know that I can tell."

Ginny didn't say anything else, but just kept on walking. One foot before the other on the shiny yellow brick of Not-Hogwarts' floor. How far was this Wizard, anyway...? Was he even in the school...?

"Yes, of course he is," said Not-Myrtle. "We can't very well leave the school, can we?"

"Why not?"

Not-Myrtle shook her head. "You'll understand eventually."

Ginny shook her head, but kept walking.

––

The day passed slowly at the Burrow–excruciatingly so–but pass it did, and without incident. When Harry began to stir on Ginny's bed, Hermione dragged Ron out of the room–"We've got to let _them_ tell us when _they're_ready," she insisted–and they entered again so that he never knew that they had seen him. The rest of the day went very much like that–gone before anyone could see where it went, even if it felt like it had taken ages and ages.

When it was gone, Harry lay in his own bed–or Percy's old bed, rather–and thought about Ginny. He hadn't thought about very much else all day, so this wasn't surprising. What _was_ surprising was when those ever-present thoughts of Ginny disappeared, quick as a flash, before Harry knew what had happened.

–they were replaced with a long, dark corridor, with a black door at the end.

Harry walked towards the door, closer, closer, and as he reached it, it flung open. He was in a room full of doors, now, and then into a shimmering room he recognized immediately as that of the Bell Jar. A flash of Ginny re-entered his mind, but only a flash, as he was still moving–and as he opened the door at the other end of the shimmering room, he found himself, once again, in the hall of–

–the Dursleys'?

Harry blinked, or thought he did, but then saw that this was no time for blinking, thank-you-very-much.

From where he stood in the hallway of Number Four, Privet Drive, he could see that all three of the Dursleys were in the living room. Dudley's eyes were glazed over as though he were watching his favorite television program while eating a slice of his favorite pie--Vernon's face was contorted as though he was yelling at Harry and enjoying it very much--and Petunia was about to have her soul sucked out by a Dementor.

Standing beside the Dursleys was Lord Voldemort, and for the first time since he left Percy's room at the Burrow, Harry was conscious of the fact that he could hear, for now he heard the Dark Lord's high, piercing laugh as he _Crucio_'d Harry's uncle and led a Dementor towards Harry's aunt. Dudley-- lacking pie and a TV, it seemed--was already gone.

...and Harry's eyes snapped open. He was back in Percy's room, upright in bed.

He jumped up to his feet, and grabbed his wand.

––

Ginny's gaze was set quite firmly on the yellow bricks beneath her feet when suddenly, she walked straight into the ghost in front of her–she stepped back out, shivering all over, and wondered why Not-Myrtle had stopped so suddenly.

"What are you doing here?" said Not-Myrtle, then, and Ginny realized that they were not alone.

"I live here," said the spitting image of Neville Longbottom, quiet as a cowardly lion.

"Oh," said Not-Myrtle. "I've never seen you. Which part do you play?"

Not-Neville turned to Ginny. "I'm your courage," he said, not sounding particularly surprised that Not-Myrtle had never seen him.

"_You_?" said Not-Myrtle. "You don't seem very courageous."

"I didn't choose the parts," said Not-Neville. "Personally I don't think I make a very good courage at all, but there you have it."

Ginny smiled slightly. "You make a great courage."

"But not _your_ courage," said Not-Neville. "I'm a part of you, Ginevra, so I've seen what you've done. I don't suit you at all."

"Whatever," said Not-Myrtle. "We're off to see the Wizard of Hog, we'd best be going."

"You are?" said Not-Neville. "Would you... would you mind if perhaps I just come along with you? I've wanted to speak with him for the longest time, but I haven't been able to muster up the cour... nerve."

"Of course you can come along," said Ginny, very pleased to have found someone other than Not-Myrtle, who made her feel very odd inside. This Not-Neville made her feel much more comfortable, somehow.

"Fine, then," said Not-Myrtle. "But we really must get going."

––

Harry stood pacing in Percy's bedroom. What was going on? The Dursleys, the Dementor, and the Dark Lord kept popping up in his mind, masquerading in front of the bed and the nightstand and the window... he didn't know what to do. Something in his gut told him to go right now, to rescue the Dursleys before it was too late and Voldemort had sucked what little souls they had out of them. Another part was worried this was just a trick. Sirius had turned out to be all right before, hadn't he...?

Something felt different now, though. Something in that same gut told him that this had something to do with Ginny and what had happened to her. And with that thought lodged firmly in his mind, he had to do something.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he found himself in Ron's room, shaking his friend awake.

"Ron, Ron," he said, "wake up."

"Wha? Go sleep, Harry, go way--"

"Wake up...!" Harry said again, jostling him more fervently. Ron's eyes opened this time.

"_What?_" he said.

"Come on. The Dursleys are in trouble."

"So what?"

"Come on, Ron. I'm gonna go get Hermione. You're gonna be awake when I get back, OK?"

"Fine."

––

Another corridor, and then another, and then another.

"Are we almost there?" said Ginny.

"No," said Not-Myrtle. "Stop asking, Ginevra. We'll be there soon enough."

"Pfft," said Ginny. Her feet were getting tired, as were her legs. She couldn't remember this many corridors in Hogwarts, she honestly couldn't, and she was about to ask Not-Myrtle if this was all just a wild goose chase when suddenly, a wild goose flew frantically past, flapping its wings as though this was its last day in the air.

Ginny blinked.

Then, behind the goose came something vaguely familiar that Ginny didn't think she had ever seen before, and atop that something sat Luna Lovegood.

"Whoa there, Snorky," said Luna as she spotted Ginny and the others, and the thing she was riding--which Ginny supposed was supposed to be a Crumple-Horned Snorkack--skidded to a halt on the yellow-brick floor.

Luna hopped down off the horse and–before Ginny knew what was happening–hugged Ginny tightly around the middle.

"What on earth are you doing here?" asked Luna.

Ginny smirked. "Let me guess. You're my... imagination?"

Luna quirked a pale eyebrow. "Wha–?"

"Was that a wild goose?" asked Ginny, chuckling. "Heh. That's good, I was just thinking... and then there it went."

"I had been trying to catch that goose all day," said Luna, sounding a little perplexed. "It was my one lead toward finding King Ronald..." A beat, and then: "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Not yet," said Ginny, smirking slightly. "Wait, so... is Ron my inner monarch or something?"

Luna turned to Not-Neville. "What on earth is she talking about?"

Not-Neville seemed more than a little terrified of Luna, and as such, said nothing.

"_Anyway_," said Not-Myrtle, "we really must be going. Off to see the Wizard and all that, you know."

Luna's mouth fell open.

"You're going to see the Wizard?"

Ginny nodded.

"I'm not sure you should do that," said Luna.

"Why not?"

"Well, he--he's dangerous."

"He is?"

Luna nodded. "You all are just going to traipse up to him and knock on his door?"

"Well--yes. He's the only one that can get me out of here. He's my wisdom, apparently," said Ginny.

Luna's Snorkack made a start, and the goose flashed by a connecting corridor down the hall.

"Well... don't say I didn't warn you," said Luna. "Be safe, and good luck. And if you see King Ronald, you'll let me know?"

"Of course," said Ginny, and then Luna was off, after the goose on her Snorkack once again.

"Well, that was peculiar," said Ginny.

––

Mrs. Weasley awoke with a start.

She blinked a few times, looked at her peacefully snoring husband, and then at the clock on her bedside table. It was the middle of the night still, and yet she was now so suddenly and completely awake she didn't think she'd ever fall back to sleep.

And so she stood, put on her dressing gown, and walked quietly to the stairs. At Ginny's door, she poked her head in to see her daughter still lying just as she had been all day--completely still, yet breathing softly.

Oh, what would she give for Ginny to wake up in the morning like it was any other day? To come down to breakfast and sit at the table, like normal. This day might have never happened, after all--perhaps she would wake up in the morning after all.

"Please," whispered Mrs. Weasley aloud.

She quickly stole into the room and kissed Ginny on the forehead. Then she left once again, further down the stairs and into the kitchen. She did her best middle-of-the-night thinking in the kitchen, after all. She didn't know what she wanted to think about, but really--what else was she going to do?

She quickly (and magically, to avoid the whistle of the kettle) fixed herself a cup of tea, and sat at the table, mulling things over. She wanted to keep her mind occupied, for she had a feeling she'd just awoken from a nightmare. She couldn't quite recall it, exactly, but she was afraid if she thought too much on it, it might come back to her.

_Too many nightmares,_ she thought to herself. And it had been: just one after another, year after year. She missed the peace and noise--far too much disturbed quiet around the Burrow of late.

That quiet was broken into quite suddenly with a quick, sharp _tock_, and Mrs Weasley looked up at the clock reflexively. Surely, she thought, someone had just woken up, and their hand had turned from _asleep_ to _awake_... That's what it always was, after all.

...but not this time.

She blinked several times as she looked at it, for she must have been seeing it wrong. She was far too tired, her eyes weren't working, yes? Or perhaps she was asleep altogether, and this was just yet another nightmare.

Or, perhaps, the hand marked "Harry" had really just joined Ginny's at _mortal peril..._

_** Next Chapter  
Wake-Up**_

"With the falling sky and the rain, we're awakening."  
Jonathan Foreman

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 


	6. Wake Up

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part One  
Living Inside**_

"With the falling sky and the rain, we're awakening."  
Jonathan Foreman

_** Chapter Five  
Wake-Up**_

It was raining on Privet Drive, raining and raining and raining. It was odd to be in the rain at night, Harry observed, because you couldn't see the drops as they fell--you could only hear them, and feel them on your skin and in your hair, beating, beating, beating down nearly as fast as your heart.

And you could smell it, you could smell it thick in the air. But Harry wasn't sure he was thinking about the rain anymore.

"This's giving me the creeps," said Ron, shaking his head. "All the houses are the same, you know? It like we're not moving."

But they were moving, down, down, down the street as the rain covered the sound of their footsteps.

"It's number four, yes?" said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Harry. They could just barely make out the numbers on the doors by the light of a street lamps. They passed numbers ten and eight and six and--

"This is it," said Harry, taking out his wands and hearing the others do the same. Then, for the thousandth time: "I'm going in first, to distract Voldemort and the Dementor. You guys get the Dursleys out of there, OK?"

"We know mate," said Ron. "We get it."

Hermione shivered. "This feels so wrong... We're not supposed to be here, you know? And... and it's so calm out here, I can't believe that Voldemort's in there, torturing your--"

"Let's go," said Harry, and he started up the garden path.

––

"Here we are," said Not-Myrtle.

"_Finally,_" said Ginny, and Not-Myrtle gave her a look.

"Well, I got you here, didn't I? No need to be grumpy, Ginevra."

The three of them--Ginny, Not-Myrtle, and Not-Neville--stood before a stone gargoyle that Ginny knew very well.

"Well," said Ginny, "don't you know the password?"

Not-Myrtle hesitated, and then said, "No, I don't--_I'm_ just the ghost of your school-girl crush, remember? Why on earth would I know the password to the Wizard's office?

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "So after all this, we can't even--"

"Of course we can get in," said Not-Myrtle. "I am the _ghost_ of the crush, after all."

And in another moment, she was gone--through the gargoyle and the wall behind, as well.

"I don't like her," said Ginny, not caring in the slightest that Not-Myrtle was probably aware of everything she said. She'd thought it a thousand times already, and she must've heard those as well.

"I don't either, to tell you the truth," said Not-Neville quietly.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Not-Neville shook his head. "That's my problem."

A beat, and then: "Do you really think I make a good courage?"

"Definitely," said Ginny. "Why do you think you're such a bad courage?"

"Because," said Not-Neville, and then, somehow, he got even quieter: "Because of what happened. It goes over and over again in my head..."

"What? What happened?"

"First year," he said. "It's all my fault, you know? I just sat there and watched... If it weren't for Harry, what would've happened?"

"Well, that doesn't matter, does it?" said Ginny. "That was a long time ago, and it wasn't because of you--"

"Hello, Ginevra," said a calm, deep voice, and Ginny and Not-Neville both turned to the stone gargoyle, which had jumped out of the way, revealing a tall slim man with a long silver beard.

"Professor--" began Ginny, but the Wizard–or Not-Dumbledore, Ginny supposed–shook his head.

"I'm not your professor," said Not-Dumbledore. "I'm your wisdom. And I do believe you wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," said Ginny. "I want to get out of here--back out of my head, and to the Burrow. I'm stuck here--"

"I see," said Not-Dumbledore, who Ginny figured had seen long before she had told him. "Well, Ginevra. Tell me what you know about this place, where you're stuck."

"It's _this_ place," said Ginny. "It's here, Hogwarts. I thought it was just the Chamber--the Chamber of Secrets, that is--but I guess it's the whole school. I've come here before, when I was unconscious... I think that's what's happened again, but I don't know how to wake up. It's been much longer this time..."

"You confuse me, Ginevra," said Not-Dumbledore, and Ginny didn't think that sounded very good, to have confused her wisdom...

"What?"

"Well, you said that you were stuck in your head... and then you said you were stuck in Hogwarts. Which one is it?"

"Well--I'm stuck in Hogwarts, in my head..."

Not-Dumbledore chuckled. "Surely you can't think that a great big castle like Hogwarts would fit in your head?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Well, I didn't think it was _physically_ in my head... I mean..."

"No matter," said Not-Dumbledore. "Wherever you are, I believe I can help you find your way home."

Ginny lit up. "How?"

"Well," said Not-Dumbledore, "all you have to do, if I'm not very much mistaken, is go to the corridor of Barnabas the Barmy, walk back and forth three times, and say to yourself, '_there's no place like home.'_"

Ginny thought on this a minute, and then: "Oh."

"There," said Not-Dumbledore, smiling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have to get back to work... don't want to return home a fool, do we?"

He turned to go back up to his office, but then Not-Neville spoke once again:

"Sir?" he said.

Not-Dumbledore turned round again, a calm, curious look on his face.

"Yes?"

"Sir... I know you're sort of in charge of things around here. And I've been meaning to get up the nerve to ask for awhile. But, um... why, sir?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you make me courage?"

"Ah," said Not-Dumbledore. "That is quite a question, isn't it, my boy? And like all the great _why_s of the world, it is best answered succinctly..."

A beat, and then:

"Why _not?_"

––

Harry knocked on the door of Number Four, Privet Drive. There was no response, and he tightened the grip on his wand.

He knocked again.

No response.

He swallowed, and then:

"_Alohomora!_"

There was a _click_ on the other side of the doorknob, and Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to move to the side.

He swung the door open, wand at the ready...

...and heard a very clear "oomph," which kind of took him by surprise.

"THE HELL--?" said Uncle Vernon, appearing around the door rubbing his head. He looked at Harry, a little off balance for a minute, and then:

"What the BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, POTTER...?"

Harry stepped past him, into the front hall, and Ron and Hermione followed, all three wands raised.

"I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS--"

"Vernon, what's going on?" came Aunt Petunia's voice. "You'll wake the neighbors--"

Vernon made a face, slammed the door, and continued in a slightly softer yell:

"_What is going ON, Potter...?_"

Harry looked round the front hall, peered into the living room, and then into the kitchen. Then he winced.

"Uh... sorry, Uncle Vernon. False alarm, I guess."

Vernon blinked. "What are you talking about? What alarm?"

"We, um... we thought you were in danger."

"Who the hell told you we were in danger?! We most certainly didn't, you can bet on that, and if we were we would not have called for the Weirdo Brigade to come rescue us--"

Harry felt incredibly stupid--had it just been a dream? He'd been so sure...

"Let's go, guys," he said, and he took off out the door. He didn't want to say anything else to his uncle--that would just make it worse.

Ron and Hermione lingered in the doorway. "We're terribly sorry, Mr. Dursley," said Hermione. "Believe us, we really did think you were in danger, we were only making sure you were safe--"

"I don't care in the SLIGHTEST, girl, just get out of my house this INSTANT...!"

Hermione blinked.

"All right then," she said curtly. She stepped onto the doorstep, following Ron. "Goodnight, Mr. Dursley."

The door slammed in her face.

"I cannot BELIEVE him..." said Hermione, shaking her head. "I mean, I know we disturbed him and everything but he could have been a little bit nicer..."

Ron wasn't paying the slightest attention. He took off running down the garden path towards the curb, and when he got there he looked back and forth, back and forth, and then turned back to Hermione.

He gulped, and then: "Where the hell is Harry?"

––

"_There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home..._"

Ginny turned to the wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and--just as she'd suspected--there appeared the door to the Room of Requirement.

She grinned to herself. Finally, this would all be over. She grabbed hold of the knob and flung the door open, not quite sure what was going to happen.

She blinked a few times, expecting to see the kitchen of the Burrow with each lift of her eyelids.

Instead, she just saw a dark room.

"Hello?" she said.

A moment passed in dark silence before a voice echoed through the room:

"_Save me..._"

"Harry!" said Ginny at once, running further into the room even though she couldn't see anything. "Where are you?"

"I need you, Gin... save me..."

"Where ARE you...?"

"You won't save me, you could never save me..."

Fed up, Ginny shouted: "LUMOS!"

And (despite her lack of wand) the room shone bright.

Harry was nowhere to be seen. However, standing tall and glittering in the center of the Room of Requirement stood a most familiar sight:

The Bell Jar.

Bright and unbroken, and something, something on the other side...

Ginny ran to the other side, because surely it was Harry--but no. Now that thing, what she had seen, was where she _had_ been, on the OTHER side. She ran back around again... and now she realized the thing was neither here nor there, it was in the middle, it was in the Bell Jar.

Ginny's eyes widened when she realized she'd been right: it was Harry. He was trapped inside the Jar.

"Harry! I... I'll get you out of there--"

Harry shook his head, growing smaller, smaller, smaller--now he was just a baby, smaller still, till he was barely anything at all...

Then he began to grow again, and he spoke in the voice of a child: "Need help me!"

Ginny couldn't breathe, she could only watch him as he aged before her eyes, calling her.

"I need you, Gin!" he said now, teenage and familiar.

Ginny reached out, pressed herself against the glass, but she couldn't get through, she couldn't get to him... couldn't save him... just like in her dream, just like when he was falling and she could not get to him in time...

And suddenly the glass was gone, vanished into nothing and Ginny was in the Bell Jar with him. At first she panicked, tried to get back out--but then she noticed she was floating. It felt rather all right, and anyway--she was with Harry.

He took her hand now, and they were growing old together.

"Please, Gin," he said, no longer shouting, but soft, and calm. And she could see the wrinkles growing on his face, around his eyes and _in_ his eyes, she could see everything. She saw terror, she saw Voldemort and Tom and the Bell Jar and the Department of Mysteries. She saw the flowing, tattered veil...

She saw everything in his eyes, and she was sinking.

--no, she was just getting heavier, falling to the depths of the Bell Jar and Harry was falling with her.

"Please, Ginny. Wake up. Save me."

He squeezed her hand, and Ginny opened her eyes.

**END OF PART ONE**

_** Next Chapter  
Missing**_

"I've been alone in the dark, I've been dreaming  
And waking up without you...  
I've been waking up without you for too long."  
Jonathan Foreman

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	7. Missing

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part Two  
Wrinkling Time**_

"I've been alone in the dark, I've been dreaming  
And waking up without you...  
I've been waking up without you for too long."  
Jonathan Foreman

_** Chapter Six  
Missing**_

Ginny opened her eyes, and no one noticed, because no one was there to see it.

She blinked, overjoyed at the sight of her bedroom's familiar ceiling. Then she blinked as she took in the familiar walls. Again and again she blinked and blinked, astonished at such a simple action because it had been so long since she'd really done it. Sure, she had blinked in the Chamber--but then, her eyes had remained closed.

_Save me..._

Ginny blinked once more, but this time for a very different reason. The image of Harry in the Bell Jar surfaced in her mind, and she sat up in bed.

"I'm trying, Harry," she murmured to herself as she slipped on her slippers and her dressing gown. "I'm trying."

––

The rain beat down on Ottery St. Catchpole even harder than it had on Privet Drive. Clouds were covering all the country and breaking open wherever they felt like it, it seemed–but London didn't know that. London only knew as much as was pitter-pattering on his own house, and that was quite a lot.

London usually liked the rain--usually loved to stick his tongue out into it and drink it in, to let his hair get all wet so he could shake it back and forth, could splash it at Luna, and before Luna, at Cynthia.

But today London felt no sympathy towards the rain–he didn't care how much it called him out to it, how much it wanted him to come get his hair wet and to come stick his tongue out. London paid the rain no attention at all because he was too busy tasting the exquisite loneliness he was feeling all over.

It was worse than ever, this year. Normally, he could get away from the thoughts of Cynthia that came with August by spending time with Luna, having a good time and listening to some Beatles... and, when it rained, by enjoying the rain with her. Because Luna loved the rain, and that helped London to love it.

Usually.

Luna hadn't been down all day today, however. She was in her room, sleeping, or doing whatever else she did when she was not sleeping. She did that, sometimes–just disappeared in her room for the day, not even coming out for the loo (or at least not when London was there to notice). He knew better than to worry, because that didn't help things–she was always all right, no use getting worked up about it. Still, London missed her terribly–

–a strange, whirling sound whirled London out of his thoughts. He looked out the window to the front yard, where two very dizzy-looking figures lay in his flowerbed, trying to stand up on the slippery ground.

He quirked his head to one side.

He marched to the front door and peeped through the peep hole, his face pressed awkwardly against the wood.

"Ronnie?" he murmured to himself.

He opened the door and squinted his eyes through the blurriness of the rain.

"Ronnie!" he said, louder this time so that the figures--one of them looked up at him, red hair plastered to his face with the rain.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Lovegood..." said Ron, but before he could say anything else, the other person spoke:

"Mr. Lovegood? Nice to meet you," said Hermione, finally managing to stand properly and walk over to the door. "I'm very sorry we landed in your flowers," she added. "This was my first Portkey... I missed by a mile or so both ways..." She looked very disappointed in herself, but then shook it off, along with some mud and a bit of water.

"Oh, it's all right," said London, smiling and nodding. Then: "Who are you, by the way?"

"Oh! I'm... I'm Hermione Granger."

"Are you sure?" asked London curiously.

"Well--yes, quite..."

"You seemed unsure of yourself for a moment. All right then." He turned back to Ron. "Ronnie, are you here to see Luna?"

"Oh!" said Hermione, interrupting. "That reminds me of why we are here... Mr. Lovegood, may we use your Floo? We need to contact Dumbledore..."

"Oh, most certainly, go right ahead," said London to Hermione. Then, to Ron again: "Because I believe she is resting or sleeping or something of the sort. But seeing as it's you, I'm sure she wouldn't mind being awoken–"

"No, don't," said Ron, turning a bit pink without realizing it, "you don't have to. We're in a bit of a hurry. This is important."

"Oh, all right," said London, nodding sagely as though he'd known Ron's response before he'd even sponsed to begin with. "Would you like some Pop Tarts while Herminey over there is taking care of your important business?"

"It's Herm-i-_o_-ne," said Herm-i-_o_-ne, throwing some powder into the fireplace.

"Yes, that's what I said." Back to Ron: "Hmm?"

"Um, no thanks, sir."

"Whatever floats your boat, then, Ronnie. If you don't mind, I'm going to put on some Beatles, yes?"

"Uh...sure."

"Dumbledore's office!" said Hermione, and stuck her head in the fireplace.

"No, no..." murmured London, fiddling with the wireless. "That's not a Beatles song at all." To Ron: "She is certainly a strange girl, isn't she?"

Ron didn't know what to say.

"_...under the sea, in an Octopus's Garden... in the shade..._" supplied the wireless.

Ron didn't think that would do very well.

––

Mrs. Weasley heard that familiar _tock_ once again, and her head spun around in a flash, dragging the rest of her along shortly thereafter. Her eyes scanned the clock without quite taking it in--which hand had moved? Was Harry safe? Had they found him?

But Harry's hand was still quite at home pointing towards "mortal peril."

It took her mind a minute before it could figure out which of the hands _had_ moved. Fred, Ron, George... all where they were expected to be. And Ginny was of course at home...

Molly took a breath.

She shot out of her seat and towards the stairs.

––

"He's coming," said Hermione, pulling her head out of the fireplace.

"Who?" asked London, seated on the couch and bobbing his head to the wireless.

"Dumbledore," said Hermione. "I said that he was who I was talking to, didn't I?"

"Dumbledore!" shouted London, and he shot up from his seat. "Oh dear, oh dear, why didn't you say so? I've got so much to do!"

And before Ron and Hermione's very eyes, London Lovegood turned into a human bumblebee, buzzing hurriedly back and forth all across the living room, neatening pillows and dusting off furniture and wiping the dust off the wireless until it shined as bright and shiny a silver as one of the spindly instruments in Dumbledore's own office.

Ron and Hermione blinked, in unison. Hermione opened her mouth to comment, but before she managed it, the fire glowed bright green once more and spit Albus Dumbledore gracefully into their presence.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. London," he added, nodding towards him as he stood nervously by the wireless."

"Albus," said London, swallowing audibly.

Dumbledore, looking as old as he ever had, seemed as though he wished to say more to London, but decided not to. Instead he merely said: "Thank you for graciously allowing us use of your fireplace. We really must be off at once."

"Oh, of course... Albus," said London, and Ron decided it was decidedly strange to hear London in such a nervous sort of voice. He had always had the feeling that London could have yelled at Lord Voldemort for stealing his fuzzy slippers and it wouldn't have bothered him. Why was he so nervous around Dumbledore?

Now was not the time, it seemed, and Dumbledore gestured for Ron and Hermione to follow him out the door.

Once on the doorstep, with the door tight behind them so the rain would not get inside, Dumbledore spoke once again:

"Tell me once again," he said, and the others struggled to hear him against the rain; "what did Harry tell you about his dream?"

"Shouldn't we talk someplace quieter?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The rain is good for many things, Mr Weasley--private conversation being high upon the list. Now, Harry's dream...?"

"He just said..." began Hermione, "...he just said that Voldemort had got the Dursleys, that he was torturing them."

"There was a dementor, I think," added Ron.

Dumbledore nodded to himself, and said, "We'll go to the Burrow, then, first of all, to let your mother know what has happened. Although she may already know, of course, with that clock of hers--in which case we will let her know what has happened in a bit more detail. Come."

He put an arm on Ron's shoulder and the other on Hermione's, stepped out into the rain and it was as though the Lovegood's doorstep was only a few feet from the Burrow's. He must've Apparated them, Ron reckoned, but he hadn't even noticed.

Just as Dumbledore raised a fist to knock on the front door, a _SHRIEK_ sounded from within, loud and sudden, and the fist flattened out into a gesture of caution.

Dumbledore motioned the two children to the side of the doorway and his wand had found its way into his other hand. He tapped the doorknob, slid it open and slipped inside stealthily. Just then it occurred to Ron how ludicrous it must've looked for a tall, silver-haired man with a beard tucked in his belt to be doing _anything_ stealthily, but the thought vanished as Dumbledore beckoned them to follow.

Inside, the Burrow seemed empty--there was no one in the living room or the kitchen, no one on the stairs, which they now began to ascend. As they rose, they heard more muffled sounds, none of them really what could be called words. At the third landing, Ginny's door was wide--the sounds were coming from there, it seemed...

Dumbledore put a finger to his lips, and snuck up the few remaining steps to the landing before poking his pointy-hatted head into Ginny's bedroom. He turned around to Ron and Hermione and smiled the smile of a man who had not smiled in a while.

"Come on up," he said, and when they did, they saw the source of the shriek: It was Mrs. Weasley, standing in the center of the bedroom with her daughter enveloped in her arms.

"Ginny!" shouted Ron, and he ran to join the embrace--

Ginny herself had other ideas. She struggled and struggled and finally managed to pull away from her mother and brother. She turned to Dumbledore.

"Harry's missing, isn't he?" she said.

Ron and Mrs Weasley turned to Dumbledore too, a jug of water thrown carelessly over their happiness.

Dumbledore nodded, slightly taken aback.

Hermione stared, quite more apparently taken aback.

"How on earth did you know that, Ginny? You just woke up--"

Ginny ignored her, and spoke again to Dumbledore:

"Because I know where he is. Or at least, where he's going to be."

––

Harry opened his eyes, and no one noticed, because no one was there to see it.

He blinked, trying to determine his surroundings. Where on earth could he be? The last thing he remembered, he'd been outside the Dursleys house, in Privet Drive... and now he was... where?

A light shone suddenly, a speck in the distance and then he saw it was really more of a line in the distance. A line? Why was there a line of light in the--?

Then it came into clearer focus still and he saw what it was: the light streaming in beneath a closed door.

He stood, or rather stumbled gracelessly to his feet, and felt around for the door itself, and once he'd found that, for the knob.

There it was--cold beneath his fingers. He turned it, back and forth, back and forth, but it would not open. Again--again--nothing.

As the wrenching noises of the knob faded back into silence, he could hear another sound in the distance: footsteps. Closer, closer, closer still.

He backed away from the door and groped in his robes for his wand. He couldn't find it. Damn it.

There was a _click_, and the doorknob wrenched once more, this time from the outside--then the line of light beneath the door grew suddenly into a glowing rectangle, surrounding a black silhouette.

Harry's eyes adjusted, finally, and saw the figure was not entirely black--just his robes. His face was pale white, and his hair shining, silver-blond. He smirked.

"Hello, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy. "I heard that you'd awoken. I hope you had a nice little nap?"

Harry didn't speak--and indeed, he wasn't sure if he could have if he had tried. His throat was sore.

"I do apologize for the... rather pitiful accommodations, but the Dark Lord insisted. I had suggested putting you in one of our lovely dungeons, but he seemed to think you would prefer it here--in this little cupboard, under the stairs."

Malfoy smirked once again.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?" he said, stepping into the cupboard and grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "I'm to take you straight to the Dark Lord, now that you've woken up. The two of you are going on a little field trip."

_** Next Chapter  
Just Like That**_

"This one's about a dream I had last night  
How an old man tracked me home, and stepped inside...  
He put his foot inside the door, and gave a crooked smile...  
Something in his eyes... Something in his laugh...  
Something in his voice that made my skin crawl off..."  
Jonathan Foreman

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	8. Just Like That

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part Two  
Wrinkling Time**_

"This one's about a dream I had last night  
How an old man tracked me home, and stepped inside...  
He put his foot inside the door, and gave a crooked smile...  
Something in his eyes... Something in his laugh...  
Something in his voice that made my skin crawl off..."  
Jonathan Foreman

_** Chapter Seven  
Just Like That**_

The darkness was gone and the world was bright, illuminated by countless, dazzling chandeliers along the corridor, their fire turning the green walls a sickly shade. Harry, brain functioning once again, could not help but thinking how ridiculous this was--Voldemort was on a kidnapping streak lately, wasn't he? And yet, nobody seemed to die.

"Hurry up, Potter, don't dawdle," said Malfoy, pulling on Harry's magical leash sharply--he'd been tied up around the hands, with his mouth gagged--so that he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

"Tsk, tsk," said Malfoy. "Come along," he added, in a tone Harry recalled very well--it was how he had spoken to Dobby the house elf, in Harry's second year.

Harry stood once more, wondering if he could take advantage of how much Malfoy seemed to be enjoying this. Could he lunge at him? Would Malfoy be too quick for him?

Before Harry could decide, Malfoy stopped abruptly in front of a great, shiny oak door. He knocked twice.

A familiar, slithery voice responded from within:

"Enter."

Harry shivered, and Malfoy threw the door wide.

––

"I'm going," said Ginny. "I need to go."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head forcefully.

"She's not going, Albus. She's been lying in bed all this time and she is most definitely not heading off on some adventure the moment she wakes up--"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Me and Hermione'll go, Professor, Ginny can stay here--"

"I am right here, people, you can act like it--"

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you, Molly," said Dumbledore, spreading his words out purposefully, so as to appear a bit more calm than he was. "But I do believe this is a very special circumstance indeed."

Something in his words seemed quite inarguable, somehow.

"Fine," said Molly weakly. She pressed her lips together tightly to prevent herself from shouting at the headmaster.

"Well, we'll come anyway," said Hermione. "It can't hurt to have more--"

"No," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "I have something else for the two of you to do. Ginevra and I will go alone."

Ginny's face glowed for a moment in triumph, before settling once again in determination.

"Then let's go," she said.

––

Voldemort sat in a throne-like chair at the end of a long, wooden dining table--this was the Malfoy's dining hall. He seemed to be in his element, smiling his evil, Grinch-like smile as Malfoy pulled Harry into the room.

"Why, hello there, Harry," said the Dark Lord. "I daresay you've missed me?"

Harry glared the fiercest, most intimidating glare that anyone can glare when one's hands are bound and one has a gag stuffed in one's mouth.

"I guess not."

Voldemort stood, and gestured dramatically--with his thumbless hand--for Harry to sit down in the chair at the opposite end of the table.

"Let him speak, Lucius," he said, and Malfoy removed the gag from Harry's mouth--the edges of his lips were bleeding. He coughed, and wanted nothing more than a glass of water.

"You look _parched_, Harry," said Voldemort, smirking still. "Would you like a glass of water?"

He shook his head firmly.

"Fine then," said Voldemort. "Lucius, you may go."

Lucius, who had been watching appreciatively from behind Harry, spoke for the first time since entering the room: "Surely I can be of some assistance?"

"You've had your fun, Lucius, now it's my turn, don't you think? You may go."

Lucius protested no further, and shut the door behind him--its slam paved the way for a minute of silence as Voldemort looked Harry over in the most unsettling way--as though he were a filet mignon, or a Christmas ham.

"So," he said, and if he had real lips, he probably would have licked them, "Harry. This day has been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

Harry was silent.

"Do speak up, Harry. That's why I brought you here, for this little get-together--I want to have a nice chat before our trip." A pause, then: "Do you know where we're going, Harry?"

Harry was silent.

"Well, you'll find out soon enough."

Voldemort seemed to be weighing what to say next. He put his elbows on the table and touched his fingertips together. The gesture was familiar, of course--although normally it was not quite so disturbing, as it was performed by Dumbledore, who had both thumbs intact.

Then, as though coming to a decision, he reached deep into his robes and withdrew his wand--yes, his wand. He spun it gracefully between the four fingers on his left hand, and then moved to grasp it properly--it clattered to the tabletop. For the first time, his smirk faltered.

His voice didn't show it.

"So what was it like?" he asked. "Using my wand, I mean, Harry? Did you like it? The sturdiness of it, the strength of power flowing through its core? I daresay you must have enjoyed it..."

He pulled another wand from his robes, Harry's own.

"--especially after using this... thing, for so long," he said, distastefully. "How on earth did you manage? It's such a pathetic little wand, don't you think? I could hardly get it to spark."

Harry spoke, for the first time:

"I didn't feel any difference," he said, and Voldemort hesitated.

"Ah--yes, well, that _is_ odd, isn't it?"

Voldemort rolled Harry's wand down the table towards him, and it came to a stop just before rolling off the edge. Harry's hands remained bound, of course, so it didn't do him much good.

Voldemort awkwardly took up his own wand again, with his thumbless hand, holding it in his fist like a child holds a crayon.

"This," he said, almost to himself, "yes, _this_ is a wand." Green and silver sparks shot up from the tip, moving a little feebly but still vibrant.

"So," said Voldemort, smirking once again, "how is Ginevra these days?"

Harry was silent once again, his lips pressed tighter than ever. He glanced at his wand... _If only..._

"Oh, that's _right_," said the Dark Lord dramatically. "She's been playing sleeping beauty." He closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, either miming a peaceful sleep or miming a wine tasting.

"Don't worry," said Voldemort, "I'll... wake her up... as soon as I return from our trip."

And Harry didn't know what happened; one moment he had been concentrating on his wand, hoping against hope that his binds would spontaneously fall off and it would jump into his hands, and then the next minute they _did_ fall off, and it _did_ jump into his hands, and if he wasn't very much mistaken, he _did_ somehow manage to leap atop the table and point his wand at Voldemort.

"_Expelli--!_"

Harry's wand flew out of his hand as quick as it had flown into it. Voldemort did not look pleased. It flew behind him, to the doorway where Malfoy stood once again, and he caught it deftly, and then briskly Banished it back to Voldemort's side of the table.

The Dark Lord caught it in his right, thumbed hand and then--_just like that!_--snapped it in two.

Harry stood stock-still atop the table, dumbfounded and pathetic-looking.

"Lucius, bind him once more," ordered the Dark Lord, smirk gone and clearly tired of foreplay. Harry fell to the table, arms bound much tighter than they had been before.

"Time to go," said Voldemort, and before Harry knew what was happening, a cold, thumbless hand had grabbed his arm, and the world was a blur of color and sound.

––

Ron and Hermione swirled down to the wet, muddy ground once again, as the rain beat down outside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Well, at least we actually landed in the right place this time," said Ron as they stepped under the roof covering the doorstep.

"Oh, _sorry,_ Ron, I didn't make a flawless Portkey on my first try..."

Ron blinked.

"I wasn't saying that," said Ron. "Believe me, I'm not about to start arguing now, of all times..."

"Oh," said Hermione. "I'm sorry, I'm a little... uneasy, right now."

"I don't blame you," said Ron, and he knocked the silver, serpent-shaped knocker.

Even the rain could not block out the scream that emanated from within--Mrs. Black's portrait, of course, had never liked visitors no matter how urgent their affairs.

The wailing was muffled, suddenly, and the door flung open--and there stood Sirius Black, looking like he hadn't slept in ages.

He blinked. "What the hell are you two doing--well, get out of the rain--come in--"

Come in they did, and _when_ they did, they saw that Sirius was not alone in the entryway. Snape stood to the side of the doorway, wand at the ready. When he saw who had entered, he let his wand arm fall to his side.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about, Snape," said Sirius. "Nobody can knock unless they already know about us, you know that--"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should fling open the front door willy-nilly. You didn't follow proper procedure. You're supposed to--"

"Give it a rest, Snape."

Snape, however, had already given it a rest:

"What is the matter, Granger?"

"Dumbledore sent us--" started Ron.

"I believe I was speaking to Granger?"

Ron made a face, but Snape ignored him.

"Well, Dumbledore sent us," said Hermione.

"_Really..._" murmured Sirius.

"Quiet," said Snape. "Why did he send you?"

"Harry's missing," said Hermione, and the room seemed so much quieter once she'd said it. "But Ginny says he's at the Ministry--"

"Then I'm going--" said Sirius.

"Quiet," said Snape again. "Miss Weasley has woken up, then?"

"No, she was sleep talking..." said Sirius.

"_Quiet_," said Snape for the third time. "When did she wake up?"

"Just a little while ago, I think," said Hermione. Then, more towards Sirius: "But Dumbledore doesn't want us to go to the Ministry. He and Ginny are going, and he wants us to wait here and alert the rest of the order to be on guard."

"Then that is what we'll do," said Snape.

"Like hell we will," said Sirius. "What happened the last time Harry was at the Ministry, Snape? I believe there was a Bell Jar involved--"

"Indeed," said Snape, "but that bears little relevance. Dumbledore has ordered us to remain at headquarters, and here we will remain unless he gives order otherwise."

"Exactly," said Hermione. She looked at Snape, fervent yet unruffled. He caught her glance, and she looked away.

The next moment, the two of them--Snape and Hermione, that is--disappeared with a soft _pop!_

––

There were whispers and voices and muffled sounds--but the Ministry of Magic was deserted once again, just as it had been--before, on that night in June.

Ginny and Dumbledore had been waiting, waiting, waiting for what seemed to be hours on end. They sat, invisible to all but each other--Dumbledore had cast a spell to make sure of that before they'd even left the Burrow--on one of the long, stone benches in the Veil Room. And it was from the veil that the whispers came.

It was cold.

Dumbledore spoke, for the first time in a long while: "You are most certain that this is the room you saw?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes. That archway, I saw that archway, I know I did."

Dumbledore nodded, trusting her judgement. "Of course," he said, and he was silent, once again.

Ginny couldn't help staring at the long, tattered veil hung from the archway, as she waited. She couldn't help staring, and she didn't want to stop, either--there was something about that veil that invited her gaze, like the Bell Jar had. She had not heard the voices, the last time she had been here. Harry had, and Luna, and Neville. But Ginny herself had not, and she wondered why.

"What is that archway, Professor?" said Ginny.

Dumbledore hesitated. "What do you think it is, Ginevra?"

"I don't know," she said. "It... it makes me think of death."

Dumbledore nodded: "It makes a great many people think of death. That archway has been here as long as anyone can remember, and as long as it has been here, it has made people think of death. Some have been absolutely convinced that it is a gateway to the afterlife--to heaven, to hell, to purgatory, to the spirit world. They have ventured their lives on it, and have never been heard of again."

"So it is, then? It is a... a gateway?"

The headmaster hesitated again, as though this was a very difficult question indeed.

"The Ministry certainly believes it is so. They've used it as such for a very long time--whenever a particularly unpleasant creature is to be executed--such as a werewolf, or a vampire--they have been taken to this room, and thrown through the veil. A clean end, and very easy to watch." He gestured towards the countless benches.

"But what do _you_ think it is?" asked Ginny.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "It may well be a gateway to the afterlife--but there is also reason to believe it is the gateway to something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes. More of a duringlife than an afterlife, I would call it. Another world, existing shoulder-to-shoulder with our own. Perhaps all those that have gone through have not been killed at all--perhaps they are merely somewhere else."

"But--why do you think that? Why don't you think they've died?"

"Because," said Dumbledore, and his tone changed, as though he were speaking of something very personal: "I believe there is more to understand in the universe than mere life and death. We concentrate far too much on what we are afraid of, and we ignore the possibilities that there is something else to discover--something that may be fascinating and completely new."

"I don't understand," said Ginny.

"Let me put it this way," said Dumbledore. "A man looks at that veil and he fears it, because it is unknown. It is completely unknown, because he has no idea what it is. But he fears this unknown--and thus it reminds him of death, because death, too, is an unknown, and is a fear. But what is there, concretely, to say that that veil leads to death?"

"The voices--"

"--could be coming from that duringlife, yes? Why must they be the voices of the dead?"

Ginny thought a minute, and then shrugged. "I dunno."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "None of us do. All we know for sure is that no one has ever come back out of that curtain, once they've gone into it. Anything else... is mere conjecture."

––

Ron blinked. Sirius blinked as well--and then, the next moment, Sirius had flung the door open once again.

"Let everyone else know what is going on," he said to Ron. "Do as Dumbledore said--wait for his orders. I'll be at the Ministry."

And then a big, black dog stood in his place. It nodded to Ron, and then padded softly down the front steps, disappearing into the London night.

Ron stood, jaw slack, watching him go. What had happened? Where were Hermione and Snape?

He closed the door, locked it, and set off deeper into the house to find another member of the Order, and tell them what was going on.

––

The air in the Veil Room was cold, colder even than it had been before. The door had opened with a slam, and two figures were visible. One was tall, pale, and snakelike--the other short, bound, and decidedly familiar.

The word had escaped Ginny's lips before she knew it was coming:

"Harry!"

The Dark Lord's gaze snapped up in Ginny's direction in a flash, and he looked round confusedly. Harry did the same. He tried to yell back, "Ginny...!" but his mouth was bound once again.

Voldemort sent a jet of light towards Ginny--Dumbledore pulled her out of the way, and it ricocheted innocently off of the stone bench behind them. Dumbledore put a finger to his lips, and Ginny nodded. He kept a hand on her arm.

Voldemort looked around suspiciously for a few more moments, lack-of-eyebrows scrunched suspiciously. Then he tugged Harry violently away from the doorway, and began to descend past stone bench after stone bench, down and down and closer and closer to the archway on the dais in the room's center.

The whispering seemed to grow louder than before, and it took Ginny a moment to realize that it was because now, Dumbledore was whispering just beside her.

"Please," he murmured to himself, "please don't be wrong..."

Ginny blinked. "Come on," she whispered to him. "Let's go. We've got to stop him--"

And then, inexplicably, Dumbledore shook his head.

"What do you mean no?"

"Ginevra, do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then stay here, just for a moment. Do not make any noise."

He tightened his grip on her arm.

––

Deep in the pit in the center of the room, the Dark Lord spoke:

"I do apologize, Harry," he said, "for not giving you a fair duel this time. After all, you don't seem to have a wand, hmm?" He smirked. "So if you'll excuse me..."

Harry tried to pull away, lunged stupidly, pathetically in an attempt to escape, but it was futile. Voldemort put a slimy, cold, thumbless hand around his neck, grabbing him firmly and leading him up upon the dais.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," said Voldemort. "It's been a pleasure."

And then, as simply as he had snapped Harry's wand in two--_just like that!_--the black curtains billowed, and with a deep scream from the doorway high above, Harry fell beyond the veil.

_** Next Chapter  
Smoke and Tears**_

"The times, they are a-changing."  
Bob Dylan

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	9. Smoke and Tears

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part Two  
Wrinkling Time**_

"The times, they are a-changing."  
Bob Dylan

_** Chapter Eight  
Smoke and Tears**_

Ginny couldn't breathe. Harry was falling, falling, falling and she could not catch him--she could never catch him. She could never save him. He was falling forever into the black curtain, its fabric blowing in the wind, and billowing over his body like thick, dark smoke.

...and he was gone.

Ginny was on her feet in a moment, charging towards Voldemort--but then she wasn't. She was frozen in place, and there was a whisper at her ear:

"Please, Ginevra. Trust me."

Dumbledore's voice was so strained, so weak, it sounded as though he were a thousand years old. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, the verge of collapse.

Ginny wanted nothing more than to scream at him, but she had no voice at all.

"Come, Ginevra," said Dumbledore, "unless I am mistaken, there are times we _need_ to see."

The words rang familiar in Ginny's ears, and the next thing she knew they were running, running, running towards the door. They were nearly trampled on the way, however, by Sirius Black, running the opposite way towards Voldemort. He seemed lost in a rage--he was firing spell after spell at the Dark Lord, who was--inexplicably--dodging them all, rather than firing anything back.

"Damn it," said Dumbledore, and Ginny wasn't sure if she'd ever heard him swear before. He stood stock still for a moment, watching the bright lights charging from Sirius towards the Dark Lord. Then, sounding more than unsure of himself, he said: "Go, Ginevra. I must stay here, with Sirius. Go."

Ginny was about to ask "Where?" but then, suddenly, she knew.

She ran. Up, up, up the benches to the top of the room, and out the door without another thought of what was going on behind her. She knew precisely what she had to do, the only thing that could save Harry--why hadn't she thought of it sooner?

_"I believe... that that bell jar brings whoever it falls upon... to the precise years they need to see."_

That was what Dumbledore had said, back in June. That was why the Jar had taken Harry and Ginny to the times that it had--and that was what Ginny must do now. The bell jar, of course, would take her to the time when she could save Harry... she _needed_ to save Harry...

She ran, and ran, and finally she was in the Time Room. Through the countless desks and finally, at the end of the long room, there it was. Glittering upon its own desk stood the enormous jar that had started it all.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" shouted Ginny, and the jar raised itself, if only a few inches, from the desk on which it sat. She stood, bracing herself, just where she had stood before, and in another moment, she let it go--the crystal crashed down upon her, and the next moment, she was gone.

Slowly, the shards of glass reassembled themselves and stood regally upon the desk once more; the bell jar looked as though it had never been disturbed at all.

––

The world was full of green smoke, and when it cleared Ginny was just where she had been before--in the Time Room, at the Ministry of Magic. But she knew, this time, that something was different. She wondered just when she was.

She was about to head back to the Veil, to cut off Voldemort and save Harry--she _could_ save Harry, yes, she could, she kept telling herself--when she received the shock of her life.

Tom Riddle stood before her, walking purposely towards the Bell Jar. For a moment she thought she was back in her Chamber--but then, a new thought occurred to her: perhaps the Bell Jar had taken her to a different time entirely.

But then, how could she save--

Her thoughts were cut short as Tom Riddle began to murmur to himself.

"So this is the great bell jar," he said, walking around it, inspecting it from all sides. It suddenly hit Ginny that this was the _real_Tom Riddle--not the one in her mind, but the one she and Harry had met in 1945. The one who had kidnapped her, and whom Harry had saved her from. Twice.

What was he doing with the bell jar? Tom had known about the bell jar?

"I've heard so much about you," said Tom--and Ginny was terrified that he was speaking to her, until she remembered that she was invisible. No, Tom was speaking to the jar itself, as though it could hear him, as though it were alive. "How you took Dumbledore and that McGonagall back in time... to the times they _needed_ to see."

He stared hard and intently at the bird inside the jar, as though it were going to answer him. Instead, it became an egg once again.

"What times do I need to see, Bell Jar?"--as though that were its name, not what it was--"What can you tell me about _my_self, I wonder?"

He gestured with his wand, quick and decisive, and the jar jumped up off of the desk, just as it had when Ginny herself had levitated it. And then it had crashed upon Riddle, and he was gone.

_Where do I go now?_ wondered Ginny. But before she could think another thought, the world was full of green smoke once more--it seemed the Bell Jar had no use for patience, this time. It was taking Ginny to another time, once again--right now.

––

Sirius continued to fire spells at the Dark Lord, oblivious to the fact that he was accomplishing little more than a slight hike in the man's heart rate. He didn't care what was going to happen--Harry was gone.

"Murderer!" he shouted at Voldemort, who didn't seem to be listening--instead, he seemed to be smouldering with triumph--after all, he had just pushed Harry Potter through the veil.

"First Lily and James, and now--now--I'm going to rip you limb from limb!" said Sirius, alighting on an idea, and the next moment he was replaced by a big black dog, which charged down the remaining benches and leaped at the Dark Lord.

_Now_ Voldemort was paying attention--he struggled to remove the dog's claws from his robes, and to keep his balance while Sirius tugged at him this way and that, finally managing to throw him completely off his balance. He fell off of the dias, landing on the stone floor with a painful-sounding _thump_.

_"Stupefy!"_

Before the dog could pounce on the Dark Lord once again, a jet of red light shot from somewhere and hit him square in the head. Lucius Malfoy descended from the benches hurriedly, to give the Dark Lord aid.

"My Lord, I told you you should have let me come with you--"

He extended a hand to the Dark Lord, who shook it off and struggled to rise to his feet by himself.

"Silence," he said to Malfoy. "There are more of them here, I can feel it." He held out a hand towards Malfoy's left arm. Malfoy extended it to him, drawing the robes away. Voldemort pressed a long finger to the Mark that glowed upon his skin, and Malfoy winced slightly.

"There will be a battle here tonight," hissed the Dark Lord. "The battle to end all battles--Harry Potter is dead, and it is time to claim victory, once and for all."

Voldemort and Malfoy basked in these words, the anticipation of such a battle coursing through every inch of them--behind them, however, as they awaited the other Death Eaters to appear, a most peculiar thing happened: the large, black, stunned dog began to float.

This would have been a particularly odd sight, if they had seen it--but indeed, they had not. Completely unnoticed, the dog floated limply over their heads and to one of the benches about halfway up the chamber, where it came to a soft landing beside a very invisible Albus Dumbledore.

"Sirius," whispered the very invisible Albus Dumbledore, nudging the dog with his wand. After a moment, its grey eyes blinked open, and it opened its mouth to bark--Dumbledore put a hand over his snout, however, and he remained silence.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said again, looking quite peculiar and yet utterly confident as he spoke to a canine, "you must alert the others, do you understand me? Go to the lobby, and use one of the Floos. I must stay here. Do you understand?"

The dog nodded silently, and slunk away--its tail disappeared through the Chamber's door just as the Death Eaters began to arrive.

Dumbledore watched the Dark Lord, silent and invisible from where he sat.

––

The green smoke was gone, and Ginny felt dizzy. She had fallen to the stone floor, and instead of standing, she held herself up on her arms, looking around. She was still in the Time Room, still beneath the sparkling shadow of the Bell Jar.

Suddenly, the door at the other end of the long room, past all the desks, flung open and hit the wall behind it, and Tom Riddle came striding angrily into the room. It took him what felt like forever to traverse the whole room, and Ginny took the time to scuttle herself around the edge of the desk that held the Jar, to get out of the way.

Finally, when he had reached this end of the room, he let out a strange, strangled yell at the Jar. It was quite shocking--little more eloquent than a troll, he grunted painfully at the Bell Jar and began to pace.

"What the bloody hell was _THAT?_" he cried, after a minute. "Give me some sort of a clue, Jar! Tell me what your purpose is to confuse and bewitch me as you've done! Tell me, Bell Jar!"

He looked about ready to grab the Jar around its middle and start shaking it. He was fuming, absolutely fuming at it--and in response, the bird within the jar merely continued its transformation, tranquil and peaceful.

He let out another huff and another puff, about ready to blow the house down when instead, he sat himself down. He sat on the floor not ten feet from where Ginny was doing just the same thing, and folded his arms upon his knees. He looked like he was counting to ten, doing anything to calm himself down.

"What did it mean?" he said, once again, more pathetic than angry. It was like he was consulting a fortune-teller, and the sparkling jar was just a crystal ball--or, rather, the teller itself.

Tom steepled his fingers. And then, before Ginny had a chance to get used to this strange imitation of Dumbledore, Tom Riddle said something that Ginny had not expected whatsoever:

"Harry Potter."

He said it with a strange sort of hesitation, as if testing the words in his mouth, seeing how they felt on his tongue. "Such a plain, ordinary sort of name," he murmured to himself. He looked up again at the Jar, still sitting, fingers still steepled unnaturally.

Then, he tried again:

"Harry Potter."

Another moment, Then:

"And who was the girl?" he asked. "Ginny...? Ginny, something, that was her name. Who is she?"

He stared at the Jar for a minute, and Ginny stared at him, open mouthed.

"ANSWER ME!" he shouted.

With a murmured "Fine," he stood once again and pointed his wand at the Jar again, and it began to hover. "I'll find out for myself," he said, and the dropped the Jar on himself once again.

The green smoke flooded Ginny's eyes, and she welcomed it this time--she wanted very badly to know where this story would take her next.

––

Ron sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, wondering what the heck was going on. Or rather, trying to keep himself from wondering what the heck was going on, by merely concentrating upon the fire and not thinking about the utter confusion surrounding him.

This refuge was swiftly stolen from him, however, when Sirius Black's head appeared in that very fire.

"Ron," Sirius said, "it's time. Dumbledore's orders--everybody has got to come to the Ministry--Voldemort's here."

Ron winced, and his mouth fell open, unsure of what to say.

"Well go on!" barked Sirius. "There's no time to waste--this is it, Ron. There's going to be a battle. Is Snape back yet?"

Ron shook his head.

"Blast," said Sirius. "Well--get everybody, Moony, Moody, everybody--go!"

"I'm going," said Ron. "I'm going."

Sirius' head vanished, and the fire was empty once again.

––

The smoke was gone, and Tom was back in front of Ginny. He must've come back again, from whenever the Jar had taken him...

He was shouting at it again. Ginny wondered why he seemed so convinced it was listening, as it didn't respond at all.

"Tell me!" Voldemort shouted. "What does it mean, to change something? What have I done, Jar? What have you made me do?"

He looked around him, at the glittering shelves of Time-Turners, the shelves upon shelves of books about time.

"They all say," he said, gesturing towards the book shelves, "they all say that we've created a paradox. That the world would have collapsed in on itself, yes?" He opened his arms and turned in a circle. "That doesn't seem to have happened, does it?"

"What _has_ happened?" asked Voldemort. "Did it really change? Has all that really happened, or will everything be just the way it was? Has this just been a vision? Have you been fooling me all along?"

There was a strange note in his voice, full of suspicion and betrayal.

Voldemort took a loud breath, almost a gasp, and then he closed his eyes, placing a hand on his forehead.

"It was so very real," he said quietly, his voice hollow and worn. "I felt the tear. I _felt_ it. I felt something rip, something being torn in two. That's it, isn't it?"

"We tore something," said Voldemort, nodding. "But what did we tear? Time? This world? Myself?"

"You'll never tell me, will you?" asked Tom.

The Bell Jar was as silent as ever.

_** Next Chapter  
**_

"Even after enormous upheavals and seemingly irrevocable changes,  
the same pattern has always reasserted itself,  
just as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium,  
however far it is pushed one way or the other."  
Orwell

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	10. The Quest for King Ronald

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part Two  
Wrinkling Time**_

"Even after enormous upheavals and seemingly irrevocable changes,  
the same pattern has always reasserted itself,  
just as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium,  
however far it is pushed one way or the other."  
Orwell

_** Chapter Nine  
The Quest for King Ronald**_

Harry braced himself for a harsh landing on the other side of the veil, but instead of the stone dais, he landed upon tall, overgrown (and unexpectedly soft) grass. He blinked.

Standing above him, two other pairs of eyes blinked as well. One pair belonged to Queen Luna--the other to Bob.

"Well, this is peculiar," said Bob.

"How nice of you to drop in," said Queen Luna.

Harry looked up when he heard the voices.

"Luna?" he asked.

"That's _Queen_ Luna, to you," cautioned Bob.

"Luna's fine," said Queen Luna, and she smiled and helped Harry to his feet. Harry was rather surprised to discover he was no longer bound--but then, he wasn't too surprised to be surprised, honestly.

"Where am I?" he asked, looking at the surroundings--they were in the middle of a great field that seemed to stretch on forever in just about all directions, they were beside a wide, brown, muddy-looking river, and there was a great beast behind Luna that made the word _Snorkack_ jump to the forefront of his mind.

"You're in Logica-Land, of course," said Bob.

"Logica-Land?" echoed Harry. "Where the hell is Logica-Land?"

"Right here, silly," said Queen Luna. "Did you bump your head when you fell from the sky?"

"I didn't fall from the sky--" began Harry, but Luna continued on as though he hadn't spoken.

"This is such a pleasant surprise," she said. "And how odd, too... first I run into Ginny, and now you, Harry. This is a busy day for running into people I've never seen in Logica-Land before..."

"_You saw Ginny?_"

The Queen nodded. "Yes. I was chasing after for that darned wild goose, and--well, needless to say, I didn't catch up with him--and there she was, standing right in the middle of one of the corridors of the Castle."

"Castle?"

"Yes," said Luna. "The Castle by the Lake."

Then she leaned in close to Harry, so that Bob couldn't hear: "It looks just like Hogwarts," she whispered, "if Hogwarts was in Logica-Land. But Hogwarts isn't in Logica-Land, so it can't be Hogwarts, you see? Therefore, it's the Castle by the Lake."

"Where is this castle? I--I need to find Ginny--"

"Oh, we're long past there now," said Luna.

"Then let's go back--"

"We can't go back," said Luna. "You've got to go forward to go back. And besides, we've got to find King Ronald, now don't we?"

Harry blinked.

"King Ronald?"

"Yes," said Luna. "Are your ears all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "They're fine--"

"Then why do you keep asking me what I've just said...?"

"I--never mind," said Harry. "Who is this--King Ronald?"

Luna sighed. "He's my King, of course, my husband. He's been missing for ages, and we've simply got to find him before the Envelope arrives at our village and envelopes the whole thing..."

"Speaking of the Envelope," said Bob, rather hushed. "We'd best get moving, don't you think, my Queen?"

"Quite right, Bob," said Luna. "You're free to join us, Harry," she added.

Harry nodded--this was all very confusing (and for the strangest moment, he had the urge to use the word _confuzzling_) but he knew that he'd be much better off following Luna, crazy as she was, than attempting to go it alone in this strange place.

"Then let's go," said Luna. And she hopped up upon the Snorkack, motioning for Harry to ride behind her.  
Bob hopped into her lap.

When they were all settled in, the Snorkack began to move, and it was the strangest sort of moving Harry had ever felt. It was not at all like riding a Thestral, he decided, nor like riding a Hippogriff. It felt rather like he was riding some sort of furry cow, although he hadn't the slightest idea why he thought that, as he'd never ridden a cow.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"We're following the Chocolate River," said Luna, tilting her head towards the wide river that Harry had presumed to be full of mud.

"That's chocolate?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Bob. "That is, indeed, why it is called that."

"The finest chocolate in all of Logica-Land comes from this river," said Luna.

"The _only_ chocolate in all of Logica-Land comes from this river, of course," corrected Bob. "Where else would chocolate come from?"

"Um... I thought it came from beans, right?" asked Harry.

"Pfft," said Bob. "The day chocolate comes out of a bean is the day the a letter comes out of the Envelope."

They rode in silence for a moment, and then:

"What is this Envelope?" asked Harry.

"It's the evilest, vilest, ilest, lest thing in all the world," said Bob. "We believe that it was the Envelope that captured the King, you see--"

"But how can an Envelope--"

"Oh dear, you are a strange one," said Bob. "I'm not even going to attempt to explain this..."

He faced sternly forward with his little arms folded, looking out on the horizon over the head of the Snorkack.

"Sorry," murmured Harry, unsure just what he was apologizing for.

"Something is coming towards us," said Bob, suddenly.

"Where?" asked Luna.

"Just ahead--there, down low in the grass."

Harry looked down in the grass ahead of them and saw it: something small, strange and white, slinking towards them through the blades.

"What is that?"

"I believe," said Luna, peering closer and slowing the Snorkack as they passed, "that it is a thumb."

Indeed it was. Long and pale, it was a lonesome thumb, somehow managing to walk along the grass all by itself.

"It must be hitchhiking," said Luna. She called down to it: "Do you need a hand--erm--do you need a lift?"

It did not respond, but merely continued its procession, slow and mournful.

"I wonder what that was about," said Bob.

Luna was silent for a moment, and then leaned back, and said quietly to Harry:

"If I didn't know better, I would have thought that thumb was rather familiar, wouldn't you?"

Harry wasn't sure what she meant, so he didn't respond.

"Perhaps it's a good sign," said Bob, "perhaps this means we're nearing some sort of... life."

"Perhaps," agreed Luna, but a minute later, that "perhaps" had become a distinct "most likely," as a strange sort of building came into view on the horizon.

"This is it," said Luna. "I can feel it. This is the Envelope's fortress."

Harry didn't think that was too unlikely: as they came closer, it became clear that the building was shaped like a giant post box: a tall, bright, bright red cylinder with a slot at the top that seemed to be the door.

"How on earth do we get up there?" asked Harry.

"We don't," said Bob. "That is the Envelope's personal entrance." They came now to the foot of the post box, and the Snorkack continued walking around towards the back.

Bob continued: "There's likely a door around here for his servants... ah, here it is."

And there it was. Luna hopped down, first, followed by Bob. Then Harry awkwardly ambled off of the Snorkack himself, and they all made their way towards the door.

"How do we get in?" asked Luna.

Harry automatically reached for his wand, before remembering he didn't have it--and, indeed, that Voldemort had snapped it in two at Malfoy Manor.

"That is a very good question," said Bob, rubbing his furry little chin with his furry little hand, but at that moment the question was answered for them, as the door swung open.

"Harry!" shouted the door-swing-opener, who happened to be Hermione.

Harry, Luna, and Bob were all very, very surprised to see her, but none more than Harry, for in another moment she had attacked him with the fury of several wild geese, hugging him around the neck.

"You're all right...!" Hermione said, not letting go.

"Erm... I was..." managed Harry, attempting to breathe.

"Oh," said Hermione, backing away.

"What are you doing here?" asked Queen Luna.

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea. Me and Professor Snape just... popped here, ages ago, and we haven't popped back out again..."

"Snape?" asked Harry.

"Indeed," said a cool voice from inside the fortress. "Now, wouldn't it be wise for all of you to come inside before you catch your death?"

"It's not cold out," said Luna, as the three of them (and the Snorkack) followed Hermione inside to where Snape was standing.

Snape shook his head. "That's not exactly what I meant. The Envelope's guards are floating around out there--the Stamps. If one of _them_ happens to stick to one of _you_... well, I don't believe you'll enjoy it very much."

"Oh," said Luna.

"This place is fascinating," said Hermione. "There are loads and loads of letters in here... it seems like whenever something gets lost in the mail, it ends up here. And..." she began, but she fell silent, looking towards Snape.

"Follow us," he said, and the two of them led the way up a spiral staircase that encircled the inside of the building--which seemed to be made up of one tall, main room, with other rooms branching out off of the staircase at each landing.

They walked and walked up the stairs, Harry, Luna, and Bob following close behind, for what felt like forever. At each landing, Harry peered through the doorless archways to see piles upon piles of letters, sorted by subject. Some were labeled "Snorkacks," some "Square Roots," and some "Wild Gooses." Then, finally, when they had reached a landing about half way up the very tall building, they stopped.

"In this room," began Snape, "is something most interesting indeed."

He led them inside, and in place of the usual mountain of letters, there was a single book, on a lone table in the center of the room.

_Logica-Land, A History_

it read, in shining letters, on the cover.

Luna went over to it, picked it up, and began to flip through.

"You'll never guess what this place is," said Hermione.

"All this time, we had assumed it was merely a strange, parallel world the Miss Lovegood had created in her mind," said Snape.

"But Luna didn't create this place at all. She just... stumbled upon it."

"Heresy!" shouted Bob, but they ignored him.

"Well, where did it come from, then?" asked Luna.

Hermione hesitated. Snape didn't.

"Voldemort," he said.

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

"There you go again," said Luna.

"Yes, Voldemort," said Snape.

"Apparently," said Hermione, "Voldemort... did something."

"Oh, really?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Hermione, too excited for the sarcasm, "he... he meddled with time, somehow. He messed something up--and by doing so, he tore the world in two. He created this place, and now this place exists as a sort of balance, to fix what he's messed up, through his meddling."

"What do you mean?" said Harry.

"Everything that Voldemort has interfered with, as a result of his meddling with time," said Snape, "is given a second chance, through this place."

Harry blinked. "Oh," he said. "I suppose that makes a bit of sense. So that's why I'm here?"

"Why? What did he--"

"He shoved me through the veil in the Department of Mysteries," said Harry.

Snape nodded. "I suppose so, then, Potter." He smirked. "Something about you just refuses to die, doesn't it?"

"I guess so," said Harry.

"But what does all this mean?" asked Luna.

"It means," said Hermione, "that Logica-Land was initially created to bring things back to an equilibrium, to fix what Voldemort messed up. That's why this place is so strange, I think, because it's trying so desperately to make sense of things. _Logical_-Land, you know...? And," and here she took the book back from Luna and flipped through to find something. She found what she was looking for, and pointed:

There was a picture of a very familiar blonde witch, holding an envelope in her hands.

"Mum..." murmured Luna very, very quietly.

Hermione nodded. "Your mum was experimenting with time and space, apparently," she said, "and she... broke into this place, at some point. That's what brought you into this whole mess."

Luna swallowed. "Oh," she said.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Weird, isn't it?"

Luna's gaze did not waver from the picture in the book for a long time--and then, suddenly, she looked up.

"But where is King Ronald?"

Hermione blinked. "King Ronald?"

"My husband...? Whom we've been searching for all this time?"

"Oh! Oh..." said Hermione. "I remember now... well, we haven't seen him..."

"He's here," said Luna.

"Erm, OK," said Hermione. "If you say so."

And suddenly, Luna burst from the room and began to run, run, run up the stairs. She could feel him, now, she could practically smell him...

She ran and ran and ran and then, finally, she reached the very top of the fortress, the Envelope's personal quarters. She threw the door open, not even thinking that it might be locked.

"KING RONALD!"

King Ronald looked up at the sound, eyes wide. He had been in the middle of a chess game with a rather put-out-looking Stamp.

Luna practically pounced on him from where she was standing, clear across the room. She hugged him and kissed him and hugged him and squeezed him and he did all that back to her, slightly awkwardly.

"Where have you been?" asked Luna.

"Here," said King Ronald. "The Envelope kidnapped me... but it's all right now."

He gestured towards the dilapidated-looking Stamp. "This guy came back and let me know..."

"Let you know what?"

King Ronald grinned. "Well, you know, the Envelope was headed towards our village... apparently, he got lost in the mail."

Luna smiled. "How anticlimactic!" she said, and they lived happily ever after, until a clatter of _pops_ sounded and Luna, Snape, and Hermione all vanished into thin air.

––

However, that clatter of _pop_s left Harry Potter standing rather confuzzled. He walked to the doorway to the stairs, wondering where on earth the others had gone. Unsure of what else to do, he began to climb, climb, climb, up and up and up the stairs until finally he stood in the doorway at the very top. Inside that room--and what was this room, the Envelope's personal quarters?--there was a large stamp that sat by a chessboard looking quite as confuzzled as Harry felt.

"Do you know where everybody went?" asked Harry.

The stamp shook its... upper half, not looking at Harry.

"Well... I need to get back," said Harry.

But suddenly Harry had this strange idea that he knew how he must get back--this strange idea occurred to him when he looked at the large letter-slot in the opposite wall, which they had seen from the outside of the postbox. This window--or door, for the envelope, he imagined--was curtained with a most familiar black, tattered fabric.

Harry walked closer--he could hear noises from the other side--clashes and bangs and shouts and Harry walked closer still.

Then, not thinking for a moment that this letter slot very well might lead to a very high plummet, Harry climbed up, and felt himself falling, falling, falling through the veil, once again.

_** Next Chapter  
Lost in the Mail**_

"Is all our Life, then but a dream  
Seen faintly in the goldern gleam  
Athwart Time's dark resistless stream?."  
Lewis Carroll

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

This story archived at


	11. Lost in the Mail

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Part Two  
Wrinkling Time**_

"Is all our Life, then but a dream  
Seen faintly in the goldern gleam  
Athwart Time's dark resistless stream?."  
Lewis Carroll

_** Chapter Ten  
Lost in the Mail**_

_Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a little, innocuous egg. It seemed to be a perfectly ordinary egg, and there were many other ones like it._

_But someone, it seemed, had decided that this particular egg was not quite the same as all of the others; instead, this particular egg would have had quite a part to play, before the end. _

––

Harry Potter found himself in a rather unusual state. His eyes were closed, so he wasn't quite sure where he was--what he was most sure of was that he was in quite a lot of pain, as though he had just fallen from a broomstick, or had been trampled by a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. As he recalled where he had just been--on that awfully strange adventure, in Logica-Land--he wondered, for a moment, if this might not have been the case. Had a wild Snorkack come across his body, after he had--

He recalled the great veil in the Envelope's wall, and the sounds he had heard behind it--the shouts, the yells, the noises. It occurred to him that he could still hear those sounds--and in fact, they were even louder now.

He opened his eyes.

The world around him was in chaos--he was back in the Ministry, in the Veil room, and there were jets of light flashing in every direction, like some sort of magical, ever-changing spider web, and the jets were shooting forth from the wands of what seemed like an army of wizards and witches. On second thought, Harry thought, it was more likely to be _two_ armies, wasn't it?

His first thought was to pull out his wand, but he remembered that he didn't have his wand at all--_Voldemort broke it_, he thought, with a sudden pang. It hadn't really hit him before that that meant he would need a new wand, he would never have that wand again, _his_ wand, his own. It was a strange thought--but then Harry realized there were more important things to deal with at the moment, or he may never have any wand again, or any use for one, for that matter.

He began to crawl, keeping low to avoid the spellfire above him, and to keep from attracting anyone's attention. He needed to find someone--was Dumbledore here? Sirius?

The robes billowing all round him were all quite plain--the black Death Eater robes, and the robes of what seemed to be each and every Order member he had never really talked to, which didn't help him at all, now. He began to climb up the stone benches, searching for someone, anyone he knew, anyone that could help--

"HARRY, GET DOWN!" came a shout, and Harry threw himself behind the nearest bench. A jet of green light crashed into the next bench, above him, and a large piece of it crumbled, bits of rock and dust falling down onto him.

He crawled more furiously now, to get away from the spot, as someone had clearly seen him, to fire the spell--who had called his name, though? It must have been one of the Order members he didn't know...

He crawled and crawled, pulling himself along the row until he reached the next break in the benches, and then he began to climb again, up and up and up until finally he had reached the top of the room. It was darker up here, further away from the glow of the spells, and he kneeled behind the topmost bench, feeling relatively safe that nobody would see him. He looked down on the fighting, taking a minute to breathe, to take it in.

_This is it, isn't it?_ he thought to himself. This was far larger than the battle here in June--this time, it seemed, _everyone_ was here, every last Death Eater, every last member of the Order. There were teachers here, he saw now--there were people he had never thought he'd see fighting in his life. There was Flitwick--and Grubblyplank--and even Professor Sprout. It seemed so very wrong, all of it... how had they all known to come here? It had just been him, Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy, before... when had all these people gotten here...?

And for that matter, where was Voldemort?

"Harry," said a voice, and Harry spun around in a moment, his arm out as though he had a wand to hold at the ready--he was half-expecting to be face to face with Voldemort himself again, right now, but when he turned around, there was no one there.

"Harry," the voice said once again, wavering slightly, and this time Harry could place it. "You're alive. I knew it was possible... I merely..."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry--I think you should stay a bit lower to the ground, you'll be seen. "

Harry did so, and then asked, "Where are you?"

"I'm right here," said Dumbledore, and Harry jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his arm.

"I can't see you," said Harry, although he thought that sounded perfectly stupid once he'd said it.

"I certainly hope not," said Dumbledore, "or else my invisibility charms are not what they used to be."

There was a silence, and then Dumbledore said: "What was it like?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "What? What was what like?"

"Beyond the veil, Harry, the veil! You realize what this means, do you not?"

Harry was silent for a moment, expecting Dumbledore to continue speaking. Then:

"What? What does it mean?"

"Harry, you are the first person in history to go through that veil and come back again."

"I am?"

"Yes. How did you do it, Harry? How?"

"I... it... I didn't die, Professor, I just went to Logica-Land."

Dumbledore blinked.

"Logica-Land?"

"Yeah... um, it's the strangest place..."

"I know what it is, Harry, Severus has been popping in and out for months. But... the veil leads to Logica-Land?"

"Well, it did. For me, yeah. Hermione said--something about Logica-Land being the universe's attempt to fix what Voldemort's messed up by messing about with time. So I don't know if it always leads there, but I wasn't supposed to die, so it... saved me, I guess..."

"Harry, what do you mean that Voldemort 'messed' with time?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he said.

Dumbledore was silent for a long time, and then, quietly, he said:

"All right then... for now, Harry, stay low, and keep yourself hidden. I believe _this_ will come in handy for that."

And suddenly, out of nowhere, Harry saw his invisibility cloak, apparently floating towards him in midair. He took the familiar cloth, and shook his head slightly.

"Why did you bring this? Couldn't you just make me invisible like you've done yourself?"

"I could," said Dumbledore, "but I believe you're rather used to using this magnificent cloak. And..." He hesitated. "I don't believe it would be wise for me to do so. I need to keep my energy."

"For what?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore did not answer.

"Well, what am I supposed to do with this?" asked Harry, gesturing with the cloak. "I don't have a wand, I'm not going to be any use--I can't very well duel Voldemort again or anything--"

"I believe you'll know what to do, when the time comes," said Dumbledore. "For now, do as I said--stay out of sight. And... stay out of this room."

"Why?"

"Too much wandfire. You may get in the way."

"Well what are _you_ going to do?"

"You will see," said Dumbledore. A pause, and suddenly the crashes and shouts from below seemed to grow louder. "Now... go."

Harry nodded, unsure of anything that was going on around him, threw the invisibility cloak on, and eased open the nearest door. Inside, the deep green glow of the tank of brains loomed ominously in the distance.

––

_Inside the egg was a tiny, unborn hummingbird, which, like the egg, seemed to be just like every other hummingbird. One day, however, while still nestled within his egg and longing for nothing but to be freed of it, his story took a rather sharp turn._

_His mother, whom he didn't know very well but whom cared for him very much, was sitting upon his egg (and the others in the nest) when quite suddenly, she flew away with a start. The poor hummingbird had no idea at all what had frightened her so, but a long time passed, and she still had not returned.  
_

––

Hermione ducked behind the glowing tank as a spell shot just past her. She took a breath, the sudden thought hitting her that just a few minutes ago she had been paging through _Logica-Land, A History_ and making her way through the vast collection of letters in the Envelope's fortress. She had been in her _element_, soaking up the new knowledge like a sponge... and now she had been thrown quite unwillingly into a duel, hoping against hope that it wouldn't end with her soaking up brain juice.

The thought shook her back into reality, and she edged her way towards the other side of the tank, hoping she could take her attacker by surprise. Instead, as she peered around the edge of the glass, she found that the Death Eater had had the very same idea, and had edged around the other way.

She had no time to react, as the Death Eater raised his wand--she was just about to attempt to dive back around the tank of brains, when--

"_Stupefy!_"

The Death Eater fell to the floor in a heap, and Hermione blinked.

"How about _you_ take care of the ones _you're_ dueling and let me concentrate on mine?" said Professor Snape, eyebrow arched as he blocked a spell from another direction.

"What? I didn't ask for your help, I was handling it just fine--"

"Come off it, Granger," said Snape, still dueling his own duel while he spoke, "he was about to _decimate_ you."

"_Stupefy!_" shouted Hermione, and the Death Eater that Snape had been dueling fell to the ground in a heap as well.

"_There_," said Hermione, rather insufferably. "Now we're even."

Snape smirked. "Touché," he said, as a new Death Eater's spell came his way. He dodged it lithely, and began to duel once again.

Hermione smirked as well. In the distance, the door that led to the circular room opened and closed silently, apparently of its own accord.

––

_The hummingbird felt quite helpless inside his egg, so he tried and tried and tried to break through its shell, but he wasn't strong enough yet. He didn't like this at all--it was cold, without his mother there to keep him warm, and he was very worried. What if she never returned? What would happen to him...?  
_

––

Harry closed the door behind him, and the circular room began to spin. The spots of blue candlelight seemed to blur into streams, and Harry had to blink several times to clear his vision once the spinning had stopped.

Where was he supposed to go now? Why couldn't Dumbledore have just said what he should do, rather than being all mysterious...? "You'll know what to do," he had said. How on earth was he supposed to know what to do?

He picked a door at random, and pushed it open slowly, carefully, trying his best to be inconspicuous--and it was a good thing he did, because this particular door led to a vast room full of planets and one or two people who were most definitely not bound by gravity. Harry rather thought that if he'd taken another step, he wouldn't have enjoyed it.

He stepped back from the door, and chose another--the sparkling, shimmering light told him immediately that it was the Time Room. He took a breath, and then a step forward--somehow, he felt this was the room he was looking for.

––

_Then, one day, the hummingbird felt a strange rustling around his egg, and then a most peculiar feeling indeed. He did not know what was happening to him--was he hatching? Was he dying?_

_In fact, he was falling. Falling, falling, falling out of his nest and out of his tree, and it seemed as though nothing would break his fall, and his egg would be shattered open before he was big enough to hatch at all. But then... quite suddenly... the strange sensation stopped. He was no longer falling.  
_

––

Ron could not believe he'd been so stupid. He'd been in the middle of an intense duel when the Death Eater had tried to run in this room--Ron had followed without even thinking, and now he found himself floating pretty much aimlessly around the solar system. The room's only other occupant (other than the planets and the sun) was the Death Eater himself, who Ron had managed to Stun. Now he sort of wished he hadn't done so--that brief, floating duel had been far more exciting than this. If only it had lasted a bit longer...

How on earth was someone supposed to get out of here, anyway? Didn't they use this room for studying planets and things...? How did _those_ people get out? There had to be some way...

Suddenly, there was a bright rectangle of light in the distance, and Ron's heart leapt up in his chest--somebody must have opened one of the doors--but then the light was gone again, as quick as it had appeared.

"Bloody hell," murmured Ron to himself, spinning lazily in the lack of gravity. "The battle of the century's going on out there and I'm nothing but a... but a... what do they call it? Nothing but a tallesite..."

"You're far more than a tallesite, Ronald, and you're even more than a satellite," said a familiar voice, and Ron spun around again, accidentally tipping head over heels as well, in the process.

"LUNA!" said Ron, who caught a quick glimpse of her before spinning around again, standing in another glowing rectangle of a doorway.

Luna smiled. "See, it's not that bad, is it?" she said. "I want to put one of these rooms in our house one day..."

Ron blinked.

"_Our_ house? What house?"

Luna giggled. "You look so silly, spinning around like that."

"Wha--Luna, could you just get me out of here?"

She grinned. "Of course, Ronald." Then she pointed his wand at him, and he winced, unsure of what exactly she was going to do.

"_Accio Ronald!_" she shouted, and he found himself barreling towards her far faster than he'd expected, and the next thing he knew he'd toppled her in the doorway.

"Uh... thanks," he said, attempting to get off of her.

"You're welcome," she said, pulling him back down. She kissed him a bit extensively on the lips, which he thought was a peculiar thing to do during the biggest battle of their lives, and then let him go, and smiled once again. "Now come on, Ronald--there are Death Eaters here, you know. We should go fight them."

Ron nodded, while somehow shaking his head slightly to himself at the same time. He didn't think he'd ever get used to Luna... but then that was sort of the point, wasn't it?

"Let's go," she said, and they went.

––

_Now, the hummingbird felt very much better. He felt stronger, stronger, and stronger still until suddenly he was so strong that he broke his egg open most easily, and he was flying, and it was the most freeing feeling in the world. _

––

Dumbledore watched the fight that was going on below for a very long time--he was not at all certain if what he was _about_ to do was the _right_ thing to do. He had thought it through as well as he could, in the little time that he'd had to do so (and, admittedly, he could do a great deal of thinking in any amount of time) and the only thing he had concluded was that while it may not be what is right, it most certainly was not what is _easy_, and that was a start.

Taking a breath, he stood upon the topmost stone bench, and held his wand to his throat.

"IF I MAY HAVE YOUR ATTENTION," he said quite calmly, and his voice echoed throughout the entire Ministry.

Everything stopped. The spells that had been cast shot off into the distance harmlessly, and each and every person in the hall turned to where the voice had come. The only movement left in the room was the soft fluttering of the veil.

Dumbledore tapped himself on the head with his wand, removing the charm that had left him invisible. The entire room gasped as one, as he appeared, and people began sidling in through all the doorways, those who had been fighting in the other rooms. Nobody said a word, as Dumbledore began to stride down the benches, one by one, apparently completely calm, until he had reached the center of the room, where he stepped upon the dais, and turned around. He did not need the Sonorous Charm anymore.

"I believe there is enough room for all of you," he said, gesturing to the benches. "Please, have a seat. You'll find them remarkably comfortable, as you're no doubt a bit worn out from all of your dueling.

The people began to sit down, as though Dumbledore had some sort of strange control over all of them. Soon the benches were filled, the Order and the Death Eaters and everybody else (the unofficial members of both armies) were all there, as if hypnotized, wondering (and perhaps afraid of) what Dumbledore would do next.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, and he smiled, although it seemed a bit strained.

––

_But then, the hummingbird opened his eyes, and saw that he was not flying at all. He was floating, in some sort of strange liquid, and he was trapped in a shining, shimmering something. Outside the walls, he could see his tree in the distance, but he could not get to it--and there were other things, big things that were moving, big people that were watching him closely. And then he began to feel very, very tired.  
_

––

Harry walked into the Time Room, keenly aware of what had happened the last time he had been here. This was where it had all begun--this place had been the beginning of the odyssey. Everything changed, in here--everything changed, when the bell jar fell.

And now, Harry realized there was no more fighting going on, not in here--here were no jets of light splashing color across the room. There were no sounds of breaking glass, of crumbling stone. There was only a lone, solitary figure, kneeling before the shimmering bell jar, head bowed.

Harry's breath caught--it was Lord Voldemort. And he was speaking.

"_Thank you,_ Bell Jar," said the Dark Lord, sounding so very different from when Harry had last heard him. His voice was empty of malice--now it almost seemed to be full of joy.

"I doubted you," he continued, "but you did not fail me. The world has failed me--my followers have failed me. But after all that has happened, after all you put me through... you did not fail me."

Harry couldn't breathe. This was not the same Voldemort at all. This was a strange, pitiful, terrifying sight, this new Voldemort. The old Voldemort never would have bowed to anything, let alone an inanimate object.

But then, Harry was reminded that the Bell Jar was _not_ an inanimate object, as the small hummingbird within caught his eye. It glimmered in a strange way, for a moment, and then it began to descend once again into its egg.

"It is over," said the Dark Lord. "He is dead. I have won."

And when Harry looked away from the bird, his gaze caught sight of Voldemort's wand--laying untouched just beside where Voldemort knelt.

––

_His wings--when had they started moving so fast?--began to slow down, and he felt himself falling again, but not like before--now he was just drifting down, floating down in the liquid until he was at the very bottom of the shining, shimmering something. He felt so very tired he wanted nothing more than to curl back up in his egg and go to sleep, and so he was quite happy to find his egg was piecing itself back together around him. In a moment, he was safe inside once more._

––

Dumbledore spoke once again, and nearly everyone in the benches had heard this sort of voice before--it was the voice with which he gave his end of term speech, every year, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"I know some of you very well," he spoke. "And some of you, I know less than I would like to. And admittedly, some of you know me a great deal more than _you_ would like to. But, I believe that if there is one thing we all can agree on about me... it is that I'm as mad as a hatter." He chuckled, slightly. No one else did.

"There are some things in this life of ours that will never be explained, that we will never understand. This place was built in an effort to ignore that truth. And so, in following with the rules of the universe, I am not going to explain to you why I am going to do what I am about to do. I'm just going to say that it is something I feel I _need_ to do. There are some things that I very much would like to understand, as unlikely as that may be to actually happen, and I believe this may help me understand them. And more importantly," and here he smiled, "I could not think of anything else quite shocking enough to distract the lot of you, or else I would have done that and put this off for later."

He took a breath, and then let it out, slowly. "Anyway... I do hope one of you has a pen, for I would very much like these words to be added to my Chocolate Frog card." He paused, while someone rustled for a moment and brought out a pen and paper. Then he continued:

"Radiance. Vicissitude. Lemon-drop. Zeal."

He smiled once again. "That is all," he said, and stepped through the veil.

––

Harry held his breath for a moment, watching Voldemort as he stayed just where he was on the floor. And then, when he was relatively certain that the Dark Lord was not going to turn around, he opened the cloak just enough to fit his hand out, and murmured, "_Accio wand!_"

The Dark Lord spun his head around, but the wand was already safely within Harry's hand, and back underneath the cloak.

Voldemort reached out to where his wand had been, on the floor, and let out a strange, guttural sound when he found it was not there.

"Who's there?" he said, a slight quaver in his voice.

Wand gripped tightly in hand and pointed out at Voldemort, Harry let the cloak fall away, and the look that flashed upon the Dark Lord's face was indescribable--a thousand different emotions passed his features in a split second, from horror to fear to rage. And then he spoke:

"You _died_," he said, every shred of the joy gone from his voice. "I saw it. I pushed you. I _finished_ it... this time." He snarled a strange, inhuman snarl.

"What did you do?" said Harry then, and it was strange, the way the words came to his lips without him even thinking them. "What did you mess with?"

The scarlet slits narrowed even further on Voldemort's face.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry gestured towards the Bell Jar. "You messed with time. What did you change?"

Voldemort was thinking, thinking, Harry could see, trying to figure out how Harry had known, what Harry already knew.

"I didn't change anything," said Voldemort.

"Liar."

Voldemort shook his head.

"No. I thought I had. Believe me, Harry Potter, I thought that I had. I thought that I had changed everything, I thought that I had broken the world in two. But that was a long time ago." He paused, and then: "I... understand things, now."

He looked at Harry for a moment, as though judging him.

"You see," he said, finally, "I didn't change anything at all. You did."

Harry did not move the wand an inch. He kept it trained on Voldemort, knew that in a moment he could end it all, knew that he would do it as soon as he knew what on earth Voldemort was talking about.

"What?"

Voldemort gestured to the Jar. "A long time ago, this Jar showed you to me. You and the girl. Weasley. It showed me how _you_ went back, how you met me, and erased my memory. It showed me, and I didn't understand. So it showed me more, you see, Harry. It brought me forward, to the night I learned of the prophecy. You know the one, don't you?"

Harry was silent.

"'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._' That one? And my future self--now, my past self--had a choice to make. Between two boys who were born at the end of July. Then was when I interfered--I told myself to choose you, I told myself what I had seen, and I told myself to kill you."

The Dark Lord smiled.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Harry, shaking his head. "If you hadn't tried to kill me, I never would have gone back in time in the first place--"

"I know," said Voldemort. "It's a lovely paradox, isn't it? But no matter how much it doesn't make sense, it's the truth--that by going back and '_messing_' with _me_, all those years ago, _you_ were the one who caused me to kill your parents." He glanced down at the wand Harry held on him, and smirked once more.

"How fitting, then," he said, "that you kill me with the same wand."

Harry definitely could not breathe now, now matter how hard he tried. None of this made any sense, he knew it had to have just been one of Voldemort's riddles... but then, no matter what else was true, it was true that this was... that wand...

He looked down at it--he had used this wand, the wand that had killed his parents, for weeks and weeks without ever really thinking about it. But now... now, no matter what riddles Voldemort was spinning...

"_Harry... thank God..._" said a voice at Harry's ear, a most familiar, most amazing, most beautiful voice that he had not heard in far too long.

"Ginny?" said Harry aloud, and he felt a soft hand on his arm.

"What about her?" spat Voldemort from the floor, thinking Harry had spoken to him.

_"I'm right here Harry, I'm invisible..."_

Why was everybody invisible today? It would have been getting annoying, if only it hadn't been Ginny... Ginny... his Ginny...

"What?" said Voldemort, smirking. "Why don't you just kill me Harry, why don't you just do it?"

_Why don't I just do it?_ he asked himself. _I could kill him, and it would be over, it would all be over... who cares if it's the same bloody wand... _

He felt the words, the Curse, so very close to his tongue. He could just say it, he could just open his mouth... yes, yes, he had opened it now, now he only had to start the words moving, he had to start them rolling down his tongue. But as he tried to speak, he felt himself falling, falling, falling... not physically, but in his head, in his heart. The hand on his arm felt so very warm...

"_Harry, hand me the wand,_" said Ginny's voice.

What? Why should he hand it to her? This was his, this was his to finish, he could kill this man, this not-even-a-man, and it would be--

"_Harry, hand me the wand. You know what to do, don't you?_"

The words of Dumbledore echoed in his head... and suddenly, yes, he knew what to do, even though it didn't really make sense. He knew, and he felt himself, his head, his heart, crawling back up a sort of precipice, no longer falling at all, but standing steady, with a warm, warm hand on him to keep his balance. He did know what to do, he knew just what to do... _this_ was what Dumbledore had been talking about... somehow, he had known...

Harry nodded.

"Stand up," he said to Voldemort, voice shaking terribly. "Get up."

Voldemort stood, slowly, carefully, still smirking.

"You're not going to kill me, Harry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't do it, can you?"

Harry held the wand out to Ginny, who took it quickly--the wooden handle was gone before Harry realized it--and wrapped it in the invisibility cloak that Harry had dropped.

Voldemort blinked.

"What did you do with my wand? Where did it--"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, and it didn't feel like he was the one speaking at all, "I can't kill you. But then, that's always been your biggest problem, hasn't it? You don't believe there's anything worse than death."

The words seemed to strike a chord with Voldemort, who suddenly seemed genuinely afraid for the first time since Harry had appeared from the dead.

"What are you talking about?" said Voldemort, but Harry didn't answer. Instead, he charged at him, with every bit of strength he had left, and shoved him as hard as he could--backwards, into the Bell Jar where it sat upon the desk. The Dark Lord fell, fell, fell until he was completely encased in the crystal, and then he began to change. He grew old and old and then young and young and did it all over again, as they watched.

"Just what you wanted," said Harry, smiling slightly. "Now you can live forever."

Neither Harry nor Ginny noticed a tiny little hummingbird as it flew gracefully away from its prison.

_** Next Chapter  
Epilogue**_

"Everything happens to everyone sooner or later, if there is time enough."  
Shaw

**_ Coming Soon _**

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

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	12. Epilogue

  


Yesterday's Tears  
_Potter47_

_** Epilogue  
Today**_

"Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough."  
Shaw

Harry was falling, falling, falling, and no one could save him, Ginny could not save him, could never save him--and in fact, she very much did not want to.

Because Harry was falling, falling, falling in love with Ginny all over again, in a very different way than he had the first time. Before, it had been so very sudden, so shocking, the new feelings thrust upon him just as the Bell Jar had been; now, the world was moving slower, and he felt he could breathe properly for the first time in years. It was, in fact, as though a great bell jar had been lifted from Harry's life, and he was free from it at last.

––

_"Gin," he had said, that night, when they had returned from the Ministry. She'd looked up at him, curious, and he nearly faltered under her gaze. "Erm... thanks."_

_"For what?" she said, and now there was a slightly dark look about her face. "I didn't really accomplish anything, did I? You were all right, you hadn't..." She trailed off._

_Harry shook his head. "I meant... thank you, for stopping me."_

_She didn't say anything._

_"I almost... I almost did it, you know?" he said. "I almost just... killed him. The words were practically on my tongue... if you hadn't shown up just then..."_

_Ginny shook her head, but he persisted:_

_"You saved me, Ginny. I could feel myself... falling--to his level, you know? To the point where I could really do it, I could do THAT... and you... you saved me."_

_She shook her head again, but didn't know what on earth to say to him, and just hugged him tightly around the neck, and he held her back more tightly than he'd ever held anything before--more tightly than he had gripped the Philosopher's Stone, or Gryffindor's sword, or the Snitch after a particularly exhilarating game of Quidditch--or his wand, in the middle of a duel. After a minute, he realized that surely, he must be squeezing too tight; surely, she couldn't breathe properly--but she did not complain. She just held him, and he held her, and they held each other, for a very long time.  
_

––

Time passed as it normally did, much to everyone's great relief. Soon, the summer was nearly spent, without assistance by time-alterations of any sort. Everything that had happened at the Ministry, and beforehand, had faded into memory, that diary they all carried about with them, its loose pages sometimes falling out without any care given at all to pick them up.

On the last day before the start of term, Ginny awoke at precisely six fifty-seven in the morning. She stared at the clock on her bedside table for a few moments before it registered that she had, for the first time all summer, managed to avoid the alarm, which typically roused her with a far-too-loud-for-seven-in-the-morning song by the Beatles at exactly six fifty-eight. Not wanting to tempt fate, she hurried out of bed, threw on her dressing gown, and placed a pillow over the clock so she couldn't hear it from downstairs. Then, she positively _fled_ the room, and tip-toed down the stairs, smiling to herself as she escaped.

It seemed she was the only one awake, so far, which surprised her; usually, her mum was already in the kitchen by this time, and she wondered what had prompted the lie-in for a moment before she remembered it was, in fact, the last day of summer, and her mother had had a very busy day yesterday, making sure everything was ready for the trip to Hogwarts.

Ginny poured herself a glass of her father's iced tea (which Arthur had found fascinatingly oxymoronic) and sat at the kitchen table, sipping. She attempted to think about the eminent return to school, but she knew it was fruitless; her mind continued to wander back to the promise she'd made herself, weeks ago, after they'd returned from the Ministry:

_I'll tell him before we go back to school, I will, I'll really tell him. _

Ginny had, in all of the hubbub surrounding the end of Voldemort, and Harry's return, managed not to ever really tell anyone what had gone on while she was unconscious; it hadn't been particularly difficult, as hardly anyone had asked. _He_ had, however--Harry had, that very night, and she'd avoided the subject.

_I'll tell him,_ Ginny said to herself again. _I'll tell him today._

A strange gurgle went through Ginny's stomach at that thought: today. It was so finite, so short-term. It left little room for the procrastination Ginny had enjoyed so much over the summer; there was no room to push it off for tomorrow, anymore. It was the end of the road.

Ginny took another sip of her tea, and shook her head futilely. She didn't know why it was so hard. It was Harry, after all--she loved Harry, and he loved her...

That was it, though. Deep, deep, down, she was scared to tell him about the Chamber, because that little, foolish part of her was worried he would think she was crazy, that he would realize he _didn't_ love her after all. _That_ was being crazy, Ginny knew, but she couldn't help herself. It had all happened so quickly, after all...

Just as quickly, however, Ginny was startled out of her chair by a sudden knock on the kitchen door; the tea sloshed in the glass dangerously, but did not spill. Ginny took a deep breath, to calm herself, and went to the window--who on earth could be calling at seven in the morning...?

She blinked as she saw a dirty-blonde witch with an eagle atop her head standing outside the kitchen door.

_Of course_, thought Ginny. _Luna..._

She swung the door wide, and Luna appeared surprised to see her there, as if she had not expected anyone to respond to her knock--but then, it was difficult to tell when Luna was surprised, anyway.

"Hello, Ginny. What are you doing up so early?"

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her friend.

"Erm, sitting in my kitchen," she said. "What are _you_ doing _here_ so early?"

Luna smiled brightly. "Well, last month, Ronald turned up at my place just around this time in the morning, and I wanted to try it."

She poked her eagle-topped head in the doorway.

"Is Ronald awake, by the way?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, he'd never be up this early--"

"Luna!" said a shocked voice from the _other_ kitchen doorway, the one that led to the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

Ginny turned around, her moot words tasting slightly off in her mouth. "Ron? Why on earth are you awake--?"

"The bloody Beatles music blasting from your bedroom had something to do with it--"

"Well, it's the last day of the holidays," said Luna, answering Ron's question from beforehand, "and I wanted to spend it with you." This seemed to Ginny an unexpectedly normal, romantic thing for Luna to say, until she continued: "I was thinking we could finish cleaning my attic."

"...oh..." said Ron, clearly less than enthused at this idea.

"Or not," said Luna, somewhat sadly, yet still nearly-indifferent-sounding enough to still be Luna. "We don't have to, we could just sit around and play with Chessy or something, but I did promise my Dad, and as today's the last day to do it..."

"Er, no, Luna, it's fine," said Ron, and Ginny's jaw dropped. "Of course I'll help. Don't want your dad... er... sneezing all over the place..."

Luna broke into a great big grin, and charged across the kitchen at Ron, her eagle squawking loudly as she enveloped the rather petrified Ron in a hug.

Ginny smiled, somewhat surprising herself; maybe Ron wouldn't make such a horrid boyfriend after all.

––

Somehow it had been decided that (as it was the last day of summer, and it felt silly for everyone to go their separate ways) not only Ron and Luna would be cleaning out Luna's attic, but Ginny, Harry, and _Hermione_ as well--who apparently had come to feel bad about her uninvited intrusion into London Lovegood's living room the previous month, and wanted to make it up to him.

They all walked the not-too-distant distance from the Burrow to Luna's home, and it would have been quite the inconspicuous walk if Luna had not insisted that both she and Ron wore their respective animal hats. The lion and eagle were, apparently, not entirely accustomed to being in such close quarters with each other, and growled and squawked noisily at each other every few moments, which caused several residents, who were enjoying the last day of the holidays from their front lawns, to stare as the group passed.

London greeted them quite cheerfully at the doorway, flamboyant as Ron and Ginny had ever seen him, and he greeted Ginny particularly enthusiastically:

"Oh my dear Gin-Gin, I haven't seen you since you were this..." He hesitated, quirking his mouth shrewdly to one side. "Well, actually you haven't really grown all that much, have you? You were about... here, maybe..." And he put a hand at the level of her mouth, wavering in the air to judge a proper measurement. Ginny blushed slightly--it _had_ been over four years, after all.

"What are all of you doing here?" asked London.

"I've recruited them," said Luna happily. "We really will get the attic finished today, Daddy, I'm sure we will."

"Marvelous!" said London, grinning. "Now, who would like some Pop Tarts?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," said Ron, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starved."

The others eventually agreed as well, as none of them had had a proper breakfast, and after they had eaten, they headed up towards the attic.

"OK, everybody," said Luna. "So far we've gotten through everything on _this_ side"--she gestured to her left--"so now we've got to get through everything over _here_"--and she gestured to the right. "We've got empty boxes over here for everything that's loose... Just take each box and show it to me, and then we've got to get it a bit more organized..."

"I could help with that," said Hermione. Luna blinked, and looked at her. "Well," she continued, "I'm usually pretty good at organizing things..."

Luna nodded, after a moment. "All right," she said. "Me and Hermione will work on the organization system and such together."

The last word hung in the air for a moment, and then they set off to work.

Empty boxes were filled and filled boxes were opened and shown and placed in new homes, this one over _here_, this one over _here_, and on and on. It was amazing how very many things were able to fit in the attic; perhaps it had been magically expanded.

Behind a mountain of small boxes that seemed to each hold one individual piece of wax fruit, Ron found something rather unusual.

"Luna?" he said, calling her over. "What do I do with this?"

And he grasped a dusty yet rather fabulously painted electric guitar by its neck, holding it up so she could see, as she walked towards him. Luna blinked once again, when she saw it.

"Um," she said, "I don't know. I didn't know we had any guitars..."

"I'll take it downstairs," said a muffled voice, and they turned round to see London Lovegood appear behind them, wearing a mask over his face to protect him from the attic. He came over and took the guitar, along with the small amplifier on the floor beside it, and walked away without another word.

"That's odd," said Luna, quirking an eyebrow.

––

Harry and Ginny had been working together in a different part of the attic for a long while, and with each passing minute, Ginny grew more nervous. Today was passing by just as quickly as every other day had, and still, she was no closer to telling him...

"Are you OK?" Harry asked, suddenly, pausing in the middle of lifting a large box from a pile. His arms faltered slightly, before he had a proper grip.

"What?" asked Ginny, shaking her head to clear it.

"I said, are you OK, Gin?" repeated Harry. "You look like something's bothering you."

Ginny swallowed. Why had he suddenly noticed? Something had been bothering her for ages and now he decides he's going to be observant... Perhaps she just looked particularly bothered today, since she was.

"I'm... fine," she said, hesitating just a bit too long between the words."

"No you're not," said Harry, and he placed the box on the floor, gesturing for her to take a seat. He chose another sturdy-looking box for himself, and sat beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Well, nothing's _wrong,_ really..." said Ginny, beating around the bush. "I just..."

"What?"

She let out a sigh. "There's something I've been trying to... to say for awhile now."

Ginny saw a flash of fear in Harry's eyes as she said it, and she quickly clarified: "Nothing like that," she said. "I love you, Harry, I could never break up with--"

"Good," said Harry, swallowing hard. "So... what's up?"

She hesitated, again, and then: "You know, Harry... when I was... unconscious?"

Harry nodded quickly. "Of course I know, Gin, it scared the life out of me--"

"Well, I... I didn't just black out," said Ginny. "I... I went somewhere."

Harry blinked. "Not like... not like last year, when I saw you dad get bitten...?"

"Oh, no--not like that. I mean... I think it was in my head, but it happened before, too. You remember when we were at the Riddle House, and Voldemort had me, and I... I conked out, then, too? It happened that time, as well..."

"What?" said Harry. "What happened?"

Ginny took a breath.

"I went... to the Chamber. Of Secrets. Well, obviously, what other Chamber would I mean...?" She shook her head again. She began to speak a lot faster: "And in the Chamber, there was... Tom was there, but it wasn't Tom, it was me. And I was there, as well, me when I was younger. And they were... parts of me. Tom was the evil in me, I think, and the younger me was my innocence or something but then I _left_ the Chamber and I was in Hogwarts and there were other parts of me, too, and I thought it was just in my head but it felt so real... you must think I'm so crazy--"

Harry's mouth had fallen open at some point during her ramble, but he didn't get a chance to speak, for the next moment, Luna was beside them.

"Of course you're not crazy," said Luna. "Why didn't you just tell me about all that? You saw me there, obviously, I could have told you you weren't crazy..."

Ginny blinked. "What? That was... that was really you?"

"Who else would it have been?" said Luna, quirking her head to the side. "Somehow, you must've gone into Logica-Land, obviously..."

"What?" said another voice--Hermione's, appearing over another large cardboard box. "Ginny went to--"

"Logica-Land, yes," said Luna.

"No I didn't," said Ginny. "It... it was Hogwarts, it must've just been in my head..."

"I'm flattered, but I don't believe I'm in your head," said Luna pointedly.

"Oh... right..." said Ginny. "But... why on earth would that place have been in... Logica-Land?"

"Wait, when did you first... go there?" asked Hermione.

"At the Riddle House," said Ginny.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "That was when Voldemort had you around the neck, yes? And he made you pass out?"

Ginny nodded, amazed at her recollection.

"Well, then that sort of makes sense, doesn't it?" said Hermione.

By the looks on the other people's faces, she gathered that it did not, and so she explained:

"Well, Voldemort created Logica-Land," Hermione reasoned, "through his messing with time. And Logica-Land exists to balance everything out, to the way it was supposed to be; to give things he has messed up as a result of that, a second chance. So when Voldemort had you around the neck, he must have attempted to do something to you, to perform a spell that would trap you in your mind, and... and away from _Harry_," she was gaining momentum as she went, as things were falling into place in her mind, "because clearly he didn't like the two of you being together, as he'd seen you together when he went back, and that made sense, didn't it? As you ended up defeating him together..."

"Is _this_ going to start making sense?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione, nodding. "He must've done that spell, and set it up to knock you out again when he was ready to move forward with his plan to kidnap Harry. That's why you were knocked out that day, you know? But somehow Logica-Land intervened, and took you into itself, trapping you _there,_ instead, so that you could get _out_ of the Chamber and into the rest of Logica-Land, the rest of Hogwarts... yes, it all makes so much sense, don't you see...?"

Harry and Ginny both stared at her, at a loss for words. Luna too did not have any words, but at some point in Hermione's ramble, she had begun to stare at some point in a distant corner of the attic and hum quietly to herself, so she did not seem quite as dumbfounded as the others.

"When you die, Hermione," said Harry, slowly, "can we take your brain out and give it to the Department of Mysteries? I think it really needs some sort of studying..."

"Erm, guys?" said Ron, suddenly, poking his head out from behind a pile of boxes. "Where did you all go?"

"Nowhere," said Luna, resuming alertness at once when Ron appeared. Then she spoke again: "I do believe we all could use a bit of a break, don't you, Ronald? Let's go downstairs..."

And she began to make her way towards the stairs.

––

When she emerged into the upstairs hallway, however, a strange sound met her ears, and she stopped short, causing Ron walk into her, and then causing a bit of a traffic jam on the ladder-stairs to the attic.

_"Hey Jude... don't make it bad... take a sad song... make it better..."_

The words were no strangers to this house, obviously, but Luna was quite sure it not the wireless singing, this once. She dashed down the hallway, and then down the stairs to the living room, leaving the others far behind.

"_Dad!_" she exclaimed, catching sight of her father; he had the old electric guitar around his neck, and he was playing it with a strange, assured grace that seemed very foreign to him.

He looked up at her, and the guitar let out an off-note before falling into silence.

"Oh... hello," he said, rather sheepishly.

Luna blinked, looking genuinely surprised--and that was quite a facial feat for her, as she tended to look surprised all the time, of course.

"Why... why didn't you ever tell me you could play guitar, Dad?"

London shrugged, again looking rather embarrassed. "It... never came up?"

"Yes it did," said Luna. "Just last month, I told you that you should start up _London and the Englands,_ and you didn't say a word--"

London shook his head. "No, I could never do that," he said. "I... I'm rather surprised I can even still play. It's been a very long time, Luna."

He hesitated, and then said: "Your mother and I, Luna, we used to... we had a band, back in school. Beatles covers, of course, you know how we both love the Beatles..." He hesitated once more, perhaps realizing he had referred to Cynthia in the present tense, but he did not correct himself. He looked down at the guitar in his hands. "We used to love it. Summers, we'd play every day, I'd sing for Paul and Ringo, she'd sing for John and George. My brother used to play drums... He had an awful singing voice, though, 'could never keep a tune... always pausing in all the wrong places..."

London trailed off, realizing he had gone off topic.

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a long time ago," said London simply. "Your mum and I never really thought about it too much... a shame, really..." There was a pain in his voice again, like there always was when he spoke of Cynthia.

Luna reached out and took hold of the body of the guitar, from where it still hung from London's neck.

"...could you teach me?" she asked, very quietly.

London smiled a tight sort of smile.

"Of course," he said, taking the guitar strap off of himself and draping it around Luna. "Now," he said, taking hold of her left hand, "_this_ hand goes like _this_..."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched this scene unnoticed from the stairs, before sneaking away into the kitchen silently, to leave the two alone.

––

Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione arrived back at the Burrow just as the sun was setting. It had been a long day--spent mostly in a cramped attic amongst old dusty things that did not seem very summery at all. Part of Harry wished they had spent the day playing Quidditch, just so it would have felt like summer, but then, they had played Quidditch nearly every day before, and today--today had been different, yes, today had been something different from all the other days in the summer, something new, something that could be remembered distinctly.

Ron had retired early to his room, clearly worn out from his early awakening, which left Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sitting in the garden of the Burrow, watching the sun finish its descent. There was something strange in the air--some fresh scent that Harry felt he could breathe in forever and never grow tired of. Perhaps it was the smell of a fresh tomorrow on the horizon--perhaps it was Ginny's perfume. Either way, Harry didn't mind.

"It's really over, isn't it?" said Hermione suddenly. Her voice had cut into the air rather harshly, and it seemed like she'd been meaning to say what she'd said for a long time, as though the words had been building up inside her and had just finally burst forth.

"I guess so," said Harry, nodding. "It is."

"It feels sort of wrong," said Ginny. "It feels as if we should... as if something's missing, d'you know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah..." He hesitated, and then the words that had been within _him_ for ages lept out in a rush: "It feels like Dumbledore should give a speech. Or explain everything, like he always does."

This was something that none of them had really talked about, since that night. No one had wanted to mention Dumbledore, no one had wanted to bring him up.

"Well he did," said Hermione, sounding uncomfortable. "He did give a speech. In the Ministry, before he..."

"Yeah," said Ginny, shaking her head. "But that wasn't a proper Dumbledore speech, not what they had in the papers..."

"Dumbledore's supposed to make things make sense, you know?" said Harry. "That's what he's there for..."

"Well, yes, I suppose. But that's just what he was saying, wasn't it?" said Hermione. "That some things will never make sense, no matter how hard we try to make sense of them. Some things are meant to remain a mystery."

Ginny shook her head once again, feeling oddly helpless. "But what was he thinking? Just... just walking through the Veil, like that..."

"Well, that... that I think I understand," said Harry. "Kind of. He knew that it had taken me to Logica-Land... and he knew that there was that tower, there, with all those letters, and that book, and everything. I think he wanted to see what answers he could find there."

"But what if it didn't take _him_ to Logica-Land?" said Ginny. "What if he's--you know--like everyone says he is--?"

"He knew what he was doing," said Hermione firmly. "If you were there, you could tell, he knew exactly what he was doing. I suppose he thought that was a justifiable risk. A chance he was willing to take."

"I don't think he would have minded, either way," said Harry. "I mean, if it took him to Logica-Land, then great, he could figure out some of the riddles, the mysteries, the enigmas and everything... but if it didn't, that'd be all right too, for him. Just the next great adventure, he'd say."

"I wish we could just know for sure, though," said Ginny.

Harry shrugged. "I reckon that's one of those mysteries."

The sun was gone completely now, and the world was dark once again. Today had nearly turned into yesterday, and tomorrow into today, and soon, today's yesterday would be gone just like the sun.

They sat in silence for a long while, and then, finally, Hermione stood, stretching.

"We'd best get to bed," she said, heading for the door to the Burrow. "We've got to wake up early tomorrow, for the train."

**_Finis_**

_Author's Note:_ Thank you all so very much for coming along with me on this journey, this Yesterday Sequence, which has taken me nearly four years to complete. I began writing _Living inside Yesterday_ on December 7, 2003, and I finished this epilogue on July 17, 2007. It has been... quite the ride, and I am forever grateful to everyone who has stuck with it for the long haul--I know that has been tough, at times. I am a completely different person than I was when I began this story, when I had just barely turned 13, and it's played an incredibly large role in my life ever since. I am rather in shock that I've managed to actually complete it--it has always felt as though it would always be there, hovering over my head, urging me to keep writing the next chapter. But it is over now, just as the Harry Potter series itself is about to be over, and my life is being shoved in a very different direction.

I'm reasonably sure that, with the release of the seventh book, I'm going to be leaving the Harry Potter fandom. I will of course finish my other two current stories, _Disbelieving in Trees,_ and my book seven parody, beforehand, but after that, I truly think I'm done. A spare plot bunny may hit me once in awhile, but that is all--I feel like this part of my life is closing, and a new part is opening up. I'm going to be concentrating on original fiction, hoping to write an actual novel one of these days, and be published, some day in the future. (You'll hear from me if that happens, I'm sure. D)

I'd like to especially thank Dennis (wvchemteach) who has been by far my most consistent reviewer over the years, and my voice of reason where these fics are concerned. He's helped me through quite a few writing crises, when the narrative has dwindled into insanity, and he's been a good friend, to boot. Thank you so much. D

And I believe... that's that. Please, please, _please_ let me know what you think, let me know what you've thought of the Sequence in general. If you have any questions, I'll try to answer them as best as I can; it's over now, so there aren't any secrets left to hold back. It's all yours.

Your loving author,  
Potter47

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 

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